


Vetrnætr

by EmeraldsAndAmethyst



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bath Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Caves, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Feels, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Mysticism, Peter Being Weird, Peter Found a Plot Despite It All, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Read Author Notes for Warnings, Rimming, Sex In A Cave, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Time Travel, Weird Biology, Weirdness, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldsAndAmethyst/pseuds/EmeraldsAndAmethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Sam have a week of 'off road vacation' planned for testing a new SHIELD prototype transport. With his helmet back in New York, and cell reception down, will they find shelter before this freak snow storm in October gets even worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preperation

_Peter and Sam's Apartment, East Harlem, New York, New York, Earth, Spiral Arm, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way, TRN123Θ_

 

"Okay Ava, remember to-" Peter said, starting to go over the checklist for at least the dozenth time that day. 

 

"Yes. Yes Peter, I have this," Ava said. She started ticket off the list on her fingers, "Danny and Luke are setting up their stupid Heroes for Hire and won't work for free so don't call them in unless it gets serious. Feed Sam's fish every other day, not every day. If it gets bloated give it a thawed, frozen pea, no shell. Make sure to sing it a stupid song because you're a total idiot-"

 

"Hey!" Peter said, scowling. Going through his hiking pack for the twelfth time.

 

"You are, no take backsies. It isn't even  **your** fish," Ava said with a roll of her eyes.

 

"Mister Shiny Pants is totally my fish!" Peter said, completely affronted.

 

"His name is Rockstar McAwesomesauce and he is  **m** **y** fish," Sam said, walking in twirling 'his' keys, "Anyways, Ava's got this. Both the thises that she s supposed to get. I'm leaving right  **now** and unless you wanna walk to Sargent Ponds stop bugging Ava and get in the car."

 

"Spiders are arachnids," Peter said on reflex.

 

"Sam was already out the door.

 

"Wait up, Buckethead!" Peter called, buckling up his pack and slinging it on. 

 

Ava shook her head as he ran out the door. 

 

"When are those two idiots gong to get a clue?" she asked the betta fish swimming in his tank.

 

The betta fish, whom if anyone had bothered to ask was actually named Fred, blew a bubble and flipped his fins. ' **humans** ' he seemed to reply.

 

***

 

_Somewhere Near Sargent Ponds, New York, The United states, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera_

 

Peter clung to the passenger seat with his spider powers.

 

"I'm driving back. I don't care what you say, I could  **not** possibly be a worse driver than you!" Peter said, shaking.

 

Sam pulled off the 'road' onto a 'parking lot', though parking lot was a bit generous. It was really just a bit of cleared dirt and grass next to the gravel road. There was a trail marker and hiking trail leading off into the boggy woods.

 

"You don't even have a license. And anyways we're supposed to be stress testing this baby," Sam said, giving the vehicle an affectionate pat on its steering wheel before killing the ignition.

 

Peter unstuck himself and checked his body to make sure all the important bits were still there. Sam ignored his theatrics, instead pacing the totally-not-a-tricked-out-mini-van and inspecting it for off road scratches, dings, and dents. 

 

"Looks like the paint job held up," Sam said. He kicked at the sidewall of the all terrain, run flat tire, then crouched down to inspect it up close.

 

"Coating," Peter corrected, "It isn't  **paint** it is  **industrial coating**."

 

Peter also examined the coating of the people-moving-vehicle-that-was-most-definitely-not-a-minivan over.

 

"I still think that they should have let me formulate some blue and red. Black is so  **boring**."

 

"Black is so classic though!"

 

"And cheap."

 

"Could you?" Sam nodded his head at the all terrain vehicle-okay-actually-t-is-just-a-tricked-out-minivan-but-totally-custom-modded-for-SHIELD-use.

 

Peter lifted the van over his head easily. Sam and Peter examined the undercarriage of the car with critical eyes. The titanium-carbon fiber woven alloy covering the undercarriage was supposed to be IED proof, but there were cracks along the axle covers.

 

"These axle covers are already cracking. Something must be off in manufacturing. Hey!" 

 

Peter moved the car so he could more easily inspect it himself. He frowned at the obvious cracks showing.

 

"This looks like a stress fracture, but this is supposed to be a brand new formulation and weaving construction. I know you drove totally nuts but nothing you did should have caused  **this**." I wonder if..." 

Peter reached out and moved the wheels, watching the 'fabric' fail to stretch and flex like it should. The cracks widened perceptibly, "Looks like the process is all wrong. They're gonna have to go back to the drawing board. At least we can still drive it on the roads!"

 

"Aw man, there goes our totally bitchin' off road vacation," Sam said with a groan and over dramatic droop of his shoulders.

 

Peter shrugged and tossed the van back onto its wheels. It creaked and groaned alarmingly.

 

Peter laughed nervously.

 

The rear hatch window shattered into popcorn sized, clear starch balls. 

 

Sam stared in horror.

 

"Hehe, um, whoops?" Peter rubbed at the back of his head.

 

Sam fell to his knees and raised his hands to the sky, "My beautiful baby!"

 

"Hey hey hey! Don't worry my little light bulb! We've got that repair kit we can still use!"

 

The airbags deployed.

 

"Okay, well okay, that's bad, but this is still totally fixable! We can-"

 

"Shut up Webs!" Sam screamed, running over to him and covering his mouth. Trying desperately to stop any further jinxes from being summoned..

 

Peter tried to say 'shutting up now' against his palm. Sam scowled. Peter stuck out his tongue and licked him. Sam leapt away as if burned.

 

"Yuck, Webs! What are you, four?" Sam snapped, wiping his palm on his jeans.

 

"Man, I hope not.  think I'm technically, um..." Peter started thinking hard about the bizarre events of his life.

 

"you're twenty, stop being stupid. We're nowhere close to the outpost we're supposed to be at, either. There was going to be a nice fire, and some s'mores, and-"

 

"S'mores? What are  **you** four?" Peter sassed back.

 

Sam was less than impressed.

 

"Okay seriously, s'mores sound great! Do you have the topo map? Maybe we can still make it there. You know my uncle Ben used to take me camping, he loved it," Peter gazed into the distance for a moment or two, lost in though. Then he finished brightly, "So I'm actually pretty handy n the woods!"

 

Cautiously Sam slid open the rear passenger side door. It slid open. 

 

It continued sliding open until it was off it's rails and Sam's human strength couldn't hold up the door at the awkward angle. It fell to the dirt with a 'whump'.

 

"Hah! Now you can't blame it all on me!" Peter said, dancing in victory.

 

Sam stared at the fallen door in betrayal.

 

The first row of seating launched into the sky, emergency escape activated.

 

"You know Webs," Sam said, staring at the trail left by the launched seats, "I'm beginning to think that there is more wrong with this car than bad weaving of the titanium-carbon alloy."

 

Sam pulled the map out of the side of the door.

 

"You think you could get our bags? I don't want to get zapped extra crispy when the security systems fail."

 

"Oh, and I do?" Peter said, affronted. Even though he was pulling out their hiking packs and survival kits while he was complaining.

 

Sam studied the topographic map intently, checking his compass.

 

"Okay, Webs, think I've got it. Let's head south by southeast," Sam said, dropping his compass. He folded the map and put it away.

 

"Right!" Peter said, tossing Sam his pack.

 

***

 

_**To Be Continued...** _


	2. Chapter Two: Happenstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...  
>   
>  _Sam was already out the door._  
>  _"Wait up, Buckethead!" Peter called, buckling up his pack and slinging it on._  
>  _Ava shook her head as he ran out the door._  
>  _"When are those two idiots gong to get a clue?" she asked the betta fish swimming in his tank._  
>   
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> _"You know Webs," Sam said, staring at the trail left by the launched seats, "I'm beginning to think that there is more wrong with this car than bad weaving of the titanium-carbon alloy."_
> 
>  
> 
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> _Sam studied the topographic map intently, checking his compass._  
>  _"Okay, Webs, think I've got it. Let's head south by southeast," Sam said, dropping his compass. He folded the map and put it away._  
>  _"Right!" Peter said, tossing Sam his pack._
> 
>  
> 
> Now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> A scene near the end might trigger you if you're triggered by rape. There ISN'T any rape, just it is a bit intense if that upsets you. Stop reading at the little spider ASCII art and start reading again at the little star ASCII art.

Peter frowned up through the canopy. There were clouds rolling in. This week was supposed to be a dry one. These clouds  looked like snow.

 

“Uh, Sam? Was it supposed to snow today?” Peter asked, maybe he had misread the weather reports.

 

“I know New York gets cold, but snow in October?” Sam said. He checked the sky reflexively at Peter’s question. He stopped and frowned at the sight. Peter stepped around him, taking the lead. Sam started back up, letting him break trail for a change.

 

“It really does look like snow,” Sam said, slow and thoughtful. Peter looked over his shoulder. They shared a look.

 

They didn’t say it aloud, but they were both thinking it.

 

_Loki._

 

“No one outside of SHIELD and our team should know where we are. Oh, and Aunt May,” Sam said. Then added when annoyance, “I should have brought my helmet.”

 

“It looks like it’s coming from the south, weirdly enough,” Peter said. Choosing to ignore Sam's complaining.

 

Again a look. Again an unvoiced thought.

 

_New York City._

 

Peter activated his wrist comm. The only thing it was receiving was a jaunty folk tune he couldn't place, and a picture of a moonlit, snowy fjord. He pulled out his cell phone. Zero bars.

 

“Do you have any signal?” Peter asked him, putting his own phone back in his pocket. Sam shook his head.

 

“No, and I’m guessing you got Loki’s little ‘Happy Winter's Nights’ music video too when you tried SHIELD,” Sam said. It wasn’t a question.

 

“Is that what it said? It looked like runes.”

 

“It’s Asgardian. Bill taught me a bit.”

 

“You think we can get coverage on top of that hill over there?” Peter said.

 

They studied the topographic map together for a moment, then Sam nodded.

 

“Better odds than down here, anyways. And I’m sure you can whip something up if we really need it!” Sam said. Peter’s answering smile was a bit strained.

 

“No pressure,” Peter said. Sam smiled back.

 

“Are you kidding me? We live on pressure!” Sam said, giving Peter a push, “C’mon Webs, use that proportionate spider endurance and break trail for my lowly human self!”

 

“Is that all you’re using me for? My body? I thought we were friends,” Peter protested, heading towards the nearby ‘hill’. The top of which was an elevation difference of roughly six hundred feet from their current location.

 

“Mush, Webs, mush!” Sam said, pulling off a branch from a nearby tree and whapping Peter’s hiking pack with it.

 

“Such inhumanity, such callousness, I moved your bed for you!” Peter wailed.

 

“Exactly. And also isn’t that racist now? Don’t say that around Triton,” Sam said. Peter shrugged.

 

“I dunno, they did keep slaves. I mean, they even made an entire people that were slaves, not just keeping them. So…” Peter trailed off, “Anyways, let’s hurry. I wanna get there before the snow starts. We’ll definitely have no signal then.”

 

“ _Das’t_  it Webs, stop saying that!” Sam said as the temperature started dropping. He shivered under his windbreaker.

 

Hopefully it wouldn’t get **too**  cold.

 

***

 

When the snow started halfway up the hill Sam knew he should have ignored Peter and brought his helmet.

 

Well actually, that was a lie. He knew before he even picked up the prototype mini van that he should have brought his helmet. But they both had their comms and cell phones, and the van had its own comm and cell phone and sat phone. And Peter’s super strength was really over kill and not supposed to be used during testing. Anyways, **he**  couldn't be ordered to leave his super powers behind.

 

“I should have brought my helmet,” Sam said, teeth chattering.

 

“I know, I know, I know. I heard you the first twelve times, Buckethead,” Peter said. It wasn’t quite cold enough yet for the snow to stick. It was melting as soon as it landed on the relatively warm ground.

 

Peter was still breaking the trail. He wasn't paying as much attention to this vital task as he really should have been. His impossible to trip, surefootedness made him actually a poor lead on the scree covered, slick slope. Sam slipped, tripped and nearly fell. It was four hundred feet back down.

 

Peter spun around and grabbed onto him, pulling their bodies close. Chest to chest.

 

Sam steadied himself against Peter. Sam was so *cold*. Peter didn’t have his windbreaker zipped up and he wasn’t even shivering. Sam had his hat pulled down over his ears and fleece jacket zipped all the way up. Collar popped and keeping his neck warm.

 

Sam would have blushed, if his cheeks weren’t already pink from the cold. Peter spun them around and stood Sam up.

 

“Maybe you should lead for a while, Sunshine,” Peter said, his breath warming Sam’s upturned face as he spoke. Sam turned around and started up the slope, picking his way carefully. New York and Arizona might not have much in common, but he’d spent plenty of days climbing the rocky, cactus covered cliffs and gullies near Carefree.

 

Peter frowned as Sam let the teasing nickname pass. More than once he made as if to pick Sam up then changed his mind.

 

“Finally!” Sam gasped, a bit breathless. Peter stood next to him. The view from up here was truly amazing.

 

Amazingly full of a wall of white snow immediately south of them.

 

“Cheese and crackers! That’s a full blown blizzard!” Peter said. Sam blew into his ungloved hands to warm them up.

 

Peter’s phone rang.

 

“Hahah yes! Hello? Oh, um, no sorry we don’t want any,” Peter said hanging up right away as Ava’s angry yelling carried over to Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, calling Ava. Or trying to. His fingers weren’t quite warm enough to register against the touch screen. His phone rang.

 

“ _Flark_ ,” he cursed, his fingers still too cold. Frustrated, he tried using his tongue. It worked, “Ava, emergency. The prototype failed spectacularly and we’re caught out on the big hill just north of Sargent Ponds. I don’t think we’ll make it to the way station even if Webs could swing us there. Any- uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Yeah we got them. Yeah. Okay. Good luck with Loki! Later.”

 

Sam clicked the button on his phone to lock it and put it back in his pocket. Peter was nearly dancing on his feet from impatience.

 

“Okay, you got the new survival packs out of the prototype, yeah?” Sam said. Peter swung his pack off and pulled out the shiny, foil-esque pouch. Sam took it and pulled out a tablet. He powered it on and tapped at the screen. He had the same problem as before, “Ugh, here, you do it.”

 

Peter took it and looked at Sam expectantly. Sam sighed loudly, still shivering. The light snowfall and wind blowing fat flakes all about them.

 

“Okay, the app that looks like an ultrasound pic. Open it,” Sam said. Peter stared at the tablet. Sam waited. Peter stared at the tablet some more. Sam growled.

 

“This one!” Sam snapped, pointing at the app.

 

“Oh! I knew that, yeah, that one!” Peter lied as he opened it. The tablet vibrated and a holo image of the mountain they were on appeared. Slowly, snow blowing through the image and distorting it slightly, the interior of the hill filled in. It was mostly solid, but…

 

“There!” Sam said, pointing at the small cavern system, “If we hurry we can get in there, make sure there aren’t any bears or hobos or what have you and maybe even get some wood for a fire.”

 

Sam traced the small system to a narrow entrance on the steep, south facing side of the hill.

 

“Maybe hobo-bears, you never know with New York,” Peter said with a theatrical shudder of fake fear. Sam grabbed the tablet and studied it a bit longer.

 

“You’re weird,” Sam said, glancing up at him with a suppressed smile.

 

“What, like **that’s**  the weirdest thing we’ve fought,” Peter said, affronted that his suggestion had not been taken seriously. It was a serious possibility.

 

“Eh,” Sam said with a shrug. He pushed the tablet at Peter and started to climb down. Peter hastily stowed it and followed.

 

The entrance to the caverns was about two hundred feet below them. The cold wind was blowing up from the south, cutting through their thin jackets.

 

A hundred and twelve feet to go and Sam couldn’t feel his fingers any longer. The snow was falling faster. Sticking now and turning the still autumn landscape white.

 

Ninety feet to go and Sam missed his foot hold.

 

“Shit,” he hissed, then stared in surprise as he realized he was no longer gripping onto the cliff face. _Well, isn’t **this** ironic _ , he thought as he fell.

 

“Sam!” Peter had him in his arms before he had time to think much else. Very warm, very strong arms. They were still falling though. Then Peter’s grip shifted and the soft ‘thwip’ of a webline could barely be heard over the wind. And then they were out of the snow and wind.

 

They were still swinging. Then falling.

 

They landed lightly on the cavern floor. Peter having swung them neatly through the tunnel and entrance into the cavern system.

 

Once out of the ‘throat’ of the cave and into the main cavern the darkness was absolute to Sam. Peter **didn’t**  have his mask with it’s night vision, but his night sight was better. He could see in the weak light.

 

“I can’t believe you brought your _flark’ng_  webshooters!” Sam said, “We could be back in New York by now if I’d brought my helmet you, you, you ass!”

 

“Thank you Spidey for saving my life! Gosh you’re super amazing and spectacularly sexy too! I wish all the superheroes were as cool as you!” Peter said, irritated at Sam’s complete lack of thanks and mocking what he thought Sam’s proper response should have been.

 

Sam growled and tried to stand up. Peter held onto him.

 

“There’s something funny about this cave…” Peter said slowly. Sam stilled.

 

“Spidey sense?” he asked, voice soft. Peter moved about the cave, still carrying the effectively blind Sam. Sam tried to look about.

 

Up at the wall with the entrance, behind Peter, there was, almost, something there. He tapped Peter’s cheek and turned his head towards it.

 

“Woah, can you **see** that?” Peter asked, voice awed by whatever his superior vision showed him. Sam huffed, annoyed.

 

“Not really. Something sorta shimmery out of the corner of my eye,” Sam said.

 

“It’s like… um, like a web, sort of,” Peter explained, “With the center the way we came in.”

 

“Great, just what we need. Actual giant spiders. I **hate** giant spiders, oh man, it isn’t green is it? _Axngboxng_ are **the worst** ,” Sam said.

 

“Axenboxen what now? And no, it isn’t green,” Peter said. Neglecting to mention that his night vision was basically color blind.

 

“Space spiders,” Sam said, “And good. I do *not* want to go up against a colony of *them* without my helmet. Thanks but no thanks.”

 

“And in the dark, too,” Peter added.

 

“Yes, gosh, how could I forget that,” Sam said, sarcasm nearly thick enough to cut with a knife.

 

“What would you do without me?” Peter reflected smugly.

 

“Punch a lot more aliens, for starters,” Sam said. Unseen, Peter sulked.

 

“Well anyways, it isn’t like a *spider* web spider web, it’s like, um, like in a circle sort of tear droppy shape,” Peter added.

 

Sam scrunched up his nose at that, trying to imagine what Peter was seeing.

 

“Like a dream catcher?” Sam finally asked.

 

“Yeah! Yeah like that! Except there aren’t any giant feathers or beads to go with it…” Peter trailed off.

 

“Didn’t the tribes that make the first dream catchers originate from around here? Maybe this is some old ritual cave?” Sam wondered.

 

“I think they were farther west…” Peter said, then tilted his face to look at Sam. He was no longer shivering, “Well, whatever this is I think the ol’ Spidey Sense is telling me it’s safe.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Sam said, blinking and trying to see the dream catcher web more clearly.

 

**_..._ **

 

Peter was quite sure that his Spidey Sense was telling him it was safe, but it was also trying to tell him something else. Not danger, he knew what that felt like, more like… well, he wasn't sure.

 

_Very strange._

 

“Come on, wasn’t there a smaller cavern just off of this one? That’ll be easier to keep warm in,” Peter said, looking about for the tunnel. There were two of them, one above the other.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam agreed. Peter leapt over to the lower one and followed it down. There were places in the wall for torches every so often. Sam started searching his pocket for something as they went deeper into the tunnel.

 

“Ah, _flark_ , my phone must have fallen out,” he said. Pulling his hand back out of his pocket, he rested it against Peter’s chest, “Why are you so _das’t_ **warm**? I thought spiders were cold blooded.”

 

“Radiation, probably. And they are. The really cold kinda cold makes me super sleepy, actually,” Peter said.

 

“Dude, that’s just hypothermal,” Sam said, rolling his eyes for his own satisfaction. Peter snorted.

 

“Hypothermia. And no, it actually isn’t. Not for me at least. You though, you can definitely get hypothermia,” Peter said, giving Sam a bit of a unnecessary squeeze at the thought.

 

“Whatever. Can you seriously still see stuff? You didn’t drop your phone too, did you?” Sam asked, shoving his hand into Peter’s front pocket.

 

Peter danced about at the unexpected, rather intimate contact.

 

“Sam! Boundaries! Have some!” Peter yelped.

 

“Keys, wallet, receipts,” Sam listed off as he felt the contents of Peter’s pocket. He squirmed around in Peter’s grip and shoved his hand down his other pocket, “multi-tool, gum, more receipts, ah hah! Got-”

 

Peter stepped off the edge of the path. Hot mineral water splashed up his leg.

 

“Ah! Hot! Wet! Wotter! Hatter! Hot water!” Peter shrieked, splashing about.

 

“Shit! Webs stop acting stupid! You’re gonna soak our packs! You’re standing up in it dumbass just jump out!” Sam said, clinging tighter to Peter and trying to stay dry.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said, before leaping out and landing back on the path. Dropping Sam in the process.

 

Sam grunted and staggered to his feet.

 

“Your phone is probably toast, idiot. I hope these survival kits have flashlights, or something besides battery hog StarkPads, ugh,” Sam said. Peter’s phone briefly illuminated the cavern before it shorted out at the bottom of the shallow, heated pool.

 

“Crap,” Peter swore.

 

“Ummm you said a baaaaad woooorrrd,” Sam teased. Unseen, Peter flushed.

 

“Sorry, just, you know,” he mumbled.

 

“Dude, like I give a shit,” Sam said, laughing.

 

“This looks like a bath, I think further down there were, um, facilities,” Peter said, blinking back the after images from his phone’s final hurrah.

 

“Sweet, I was so not looking forward to shitting in a corner,” Sam said, way too cheerful.

 

“Ew. Gross,” Peter said, making a face of disgust.

 

“What? Like you don’t-”

 

“RIGHT! ANYWAYS! Let’s go check what’s up above here!” Peter talked on, over Sam as he picked him back up.

 

“-shit. I dunno what your problem is. We share an apartment, it isn’t like we-”

 

“Please stop talking.”

 

Sam leaned his head against Peter’s shoulder. Peter's heart started racing. He nuzzled up against Peter’s cheek, pressing his lips tenderly against Peter’s ear.

 

“Shiiiiit,” he whispered faux seductively.

 

“AUGH! SAM!” Peter screamed, letting him go.

 

“Shit!” Sam yelped, clinging tightly.

 

“Would you cut it out Sparky! Stop talking about poop!”

 

“Don’t drop me again! It’s dark!”

 

Peter’s warm arms once again held Sam up.

 

“Stop talking about poop, you poop,” Peter grumbled, “and it isn’t **that**  dark.”

 

“It is if you’re human!”

 

Peter flinched at that. They were back in the main cavern now, he leapt up to the higher tunnel. There were probably stairs or a ramp cut in the wall, but he no longer wanted to find them.

 

Sam felt the flinch, but couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Instead, he muttered ‘you’re a poop’ under his breath.  

 

“So help me I will throw you through this tunnel if you don’t stop pushing my buttons,” Peter said, voice low.

 

Sam sulked.

 

They continued on in strained silence. The tunnel covered the same distance as the one below, but doubled back and twisted about. It felt much longer than it probably really was.

 

“It looks like we can set up our sleeping bags here,” Peter said, finally setting Sam down as the twisty tunnel widened out into a cozy cavern.

 

Sam stretched then rubbed his hands together. The air temperature wasn’t hypothermia inducing, but it wasn’t terribly comfortable either. Peter shivered then, wet pants clinging uncomfortably to his legs.

 

Sam slung his backpack down and started digging through it. Peter shrugged out of his backpack and let it fall with a thud.

 

Sam scrambled to his feet in a defensive crouch. His eyes darting about, head turning. Peter smirked and crept stealthily behind him, spider powers giving him unnaturally quiet movements.

 

“Webs? What was that?” Sam whispered, looking at where he thought Peter was. Peter suppressed another shiver and remained quiet.

 

“Webs come on, this isn’t funny!” Sam whisper-shouted, taking a step towards where Peter had been and reaching out.

 

Peter held back a giggle, he wiggled his hips silently. A sudden urge to web Sam up and kiss him soundly ran through him.

 

**_mine_ **

 

_No Spidey, he’s your roommate. No kissing roommates._

 

He hollered nonsense and waved his hands near Sam’s face. Sam shrieked and tried to attack back. Spidey sense saved him from a deserved punch to the neck. Though he couldn’t suppress the sudden, overpowering urge to bite Sam. Not entirely. He leapt on his back and nipped playfully at his neck.

 

“Aaaah I’m a scary monster! I’m gonna eat you up!” Peter half sang, wrapping his legs under Sam’s arms, and around his chest.

 

“WEBS YOU FUCKING FUCK!”

 

“Nom nom nom,” Peter said as he chewed on Sam’s hair.

 

“GET OFF ME YOU WEIRDO!”

 

Peter knew, **knew** , that he really shouldn’t be doing this. Relatively harmless goofing off as it was, the urges he was trying to sate were **not**.

 

_**want** _

 

_Sam's just a friend._

 

He leapt away, sticking to the wall nearby in his crouch. He watched Sam flail at nothing, his flushing cheeks visible now.

 

His vision was getting better, which was another strange thing. Strangeness on top of strangeness.

 

He was about to say something when he realized at least part of the reason Sam was so pissed. A good sized part of the reason. He licked his lips and turned his head away, looking out the tunnel.

 

God, he’d gotten Sam hard nipping at him.

 

He sunk deeper into his crouch. He had **not**  known Sam was into the biting.

 

_**not prey** _

 

_Yes. Yuck. Sam isn't food._

 

He was making this weird. Why did he always make things weird?

 

_**want mate** _

 

_Weirder. Just what I needed._

 

He should say something, **do** something. Fix the weirdness.

 

“Ugh, you got me all wet you ass. It’s fucking **cold** ,” Sam complained, pulling at his wet fleece windbreaker. Peter shivered, looking back at Sam as he spoke.

 

Sam stared at him. Peter stared back.

 

“Webs?”

 

“Yeah?” he said. Slowly Sam stepped over and reached out, pressing his ice cold hands against Peter’s cheeks.

 

“Are you… okay? You’re um… You’re kinda…” Sam said. He swallowed. Peter blinked.

 

“You can see now?”

 

Sam worried at his lower lip.

 

Peter watched him, then looked up at his eyes. They definitely locked gazes. It should still be pitch black for Sam.

 

“Your eyes are glowing red,” Sam finally blurted. Oh, that would do it. He still can’t **see**  him just his eyes…

 

“What, seriously? I mean, my vision **is**  getting better, I just…” Peter trailed off, swallowing. Those urges earlier… “I should go get us some firewood! Before it gets too much worse! I’ll just-”

 

“Peter.”

 

Peter swallowed, wiggling his hips and crouching nearly flush against the wall. He turned his head away, lips brushing Sam’s palm before Sam moved his hand down to his shoulder, pushing aside his jacket’s popped collar. He rested his thumb against Peter’s throat.

 

“Look, that blizzard is serious. You can’t go out there in it by yourself, especially in **wet**  pants and a pissant windbreaker. You don’t even have gloves,” Peter opened his mouth to correct him, “and shut up, I don’t care if you **do**  have gloves! You are **not** leaving me in this creepy cave by myself. Your eyes being all red and glowy are most def weird as fuck, but you **aren’t**  going to suck me dry or whatever you’re scared of. I trust you,” Sam said. Peter swallowed.

 

Sam had **no idea**  how badly he did want to suck him dry. And he **knew**  that wasn’t the kind of sucking that Sam meant. He meant the bad kind of sucking. Of the more… spidery sort.

 

Sam trusted him enough that he believed he wouldn’t eat him if he lost it and went full spider. Peter’s breath caught in his throat at that. That total trust. He could see it in Sam's face, his eyes. Feel it from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet.

 

“I won’t let you down,” Peter said, voice rough. Sam smiled and gave his cheek a pat.

 

“I know it. Okay! We need to unpack our packs and make a warm little nest somewhere.”

 

**yes. nest. warm his mate**

 

 _Nopenopenope, not a mate just a_ **_room_ ** _mate._

 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, you unpack the packs. I’ll be right back, gonna make sure there aren’t any surprises out in the corners of the caverns!”

 

Sam stared at him, suspicion clear on his face.

 

“Promise I won’t go get firewood! Don’t tell anyone I said this but you’re totally right,” Peter said. Sam seemed to accept that.

 

“I’m always right, Webs, and everyone knows it,” Sam said, starting to unpack his own pack first.

 

Peter climbed and crawled across the cavern system. There was another room, just to the side. Away from the slightly humid air coming from the ‘bathing’ room. He crawled in on the ceiling.

 

It looked like it had once been a storage room. Now though it had some interesting, mostly empty, woven baskets. The large ones had once held grain, it smelled like. One of them still had some dried corn. Which actually was a bit strange, this place couldn’t have been inhabited recently or he’d smell-taste the traces of its inhabitants.

 

_Smell-taste?_

 

**_smell-tastes empty. abandoned. mine now_ **

 

He shook his head. He was pretty sure that was **not** one of his super powers. Body swapping with Wolverine all those years ago had been a trip and a half. He definitely didn’t have super smell. Maybe he had a **little**  bit of super smelling, but it wasn’t anything terribly helpful. He couldn’t track anyone, that’s for sure.

 

One of the smaller baskets had little spiders woven into the design. He reached out to touch it.

 

**_smell-taste good. want want want_ **

 

_Oh. Okay. Smell-taste. Got it._

 

Spiders **did**  have chemoreceptors on their legs. He just hadn’t ever noticed that **he**  had chemoreceptors outside of his tongue before now.

 

“This is way weird.”

 

Thankfully, nothing responded. Though he couldn’t help but open the basket to see what was inside. It was some kind of powdered herb. He cautiously wafted the scent over to him, like the responsible chemist that he was.

 

“Smells like plants.”

 

He set the basket back down, lid back on. He stared at his hands. He could still… smell-taste the residue on them. **That**  ‘tasted’ much nicer than it actually smelled.

 

He looked up at the silvery spider web-esque design on the entrance wall. Visible through the open doorway.

 

**_safe_ **

 

“Yeah, well, safe or not this is weird as heck and I wanna gee tee eff oh.”

 

Further investigation of the storage room yielded some more interesting, small baskets. This time he stayed away from them. Now that this sense had been brought to his attention he realized he could ‘smell-taste’ the minerals of the rock under his hands, and the fibers of the socks on his feet. Even his detergent.

 

He stayed on the ceiling, unsure if he really wanted to ‘smell-taste’ their own tracks in just yet. This place **obviously**  had something to do with spiders. It seemed to be enhancing his, well, spidery-ness the longer he was here.

 

On his way out of the storage nook, he paused again at the spider basket. Maybe just a little… oh! He had a specimen bag in his pocket. He should take a sample back for further study.

 

He pulled the little plastic pouch and a pen out of his cargo pocket. Slightly damp, but still usable. He wrote the date and his best guess of the time on the baggie and dropped the pen. He glared at it, it rolled under a carved shelf.

 

“I didn't like you, anyway,” he told it. It stayed put.

 

He opened the specimen pouch, really just a sterile plastic baggie, and turned back to the spider themed basket. He stared at it, as if it was waiting to pounce him. When it failed to pounce, he opened it cautiously.

 

It still smelled like plants.

 

Like the rushed just barely out of his teens young man that he was, he scooped the baggie through the powder with his bare hand. His fingers brushed into it

 

**_good good good want want want_ **

 

He shuddered and hissed, jerking his hand back. His motion flung some of the powdered herb into the air. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep, slow breaths. Hands clenching, if he'd had a test tube instead of a plastic bag he would have crushed it. As it was he dug his fingers into the rock of the ceiling trying to steady himself.

 

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

 

“Woah, okay. That was not good-”

 

**_was good good good_ **

 

“Shut up!” Peter let go of the ceiling with his other hand and rubbed at his eyes. Then glared balefully at the baggie still there. With the powder still clinging to its wet outsides, and his fingers. That he'd just rubbed all over his mucus membranes.

 

“Well, fuck.”

 

He closed the baggie and put it back in his pants.

 

His stomach growled.

 

“Ugh, great. Maybe Sam has something-”

 

 ** _mate not prey_**. _mate mate_

 

Peter shook his head. His eyes itched. He rubbed them again.

 

He sneezed.

 

Why were his fingers covered in  **_good good good_ ** ‘tasting' plant stuff?

 

He stared. His fingers itched. His toes itched.

 

He sneezed again and fell in a graceless heap to the floor.

 

He hissed at his feet. Annoyed.

 

He couldn’t remember why he was covering up his feet. It made sticking to things way too hard. That was stupid. He kicked off his shoes, they flew somewhere into the main cavern.

 

He stood up, then immediately crouched down. He shook his head again after the wave of dizziness passed and hopped out into the main cavern.

 

His stomach growled again. He leaned against the wall next to the storage nook. He raised his head, squinting. Had that opening always been above the pantry?

 

He stagger-crawled up to it. It smelled **delicious**.

 

His teeth itched. He scratched at his canines. Relieving that itch made him aware of a deeper itch in the roof of his mouth. He scratched at that, too.

 

He hissed at the absolutely **vile**  taste of the good good good stuff from his fingers. How could something smell-taste so good but taste-taste so totally awful?

 

He wiped his hands on his pants.

 

And why was he wearing wet clothes?

 

His pants and boxers joined his shoes somewhere below.

 

Now back to that tasty smell of **dinner**.

 

He peered cautiously over the edge, then leapt inside with a happy trill. Bundles of smoked red meat were stacked inside.

 

***

 

There was no scent, but the sound and light of a fire coming from the nest. His companion was at the nest. His nest. Their nest?

 

He was full. He should bring something back for his… his… *his*. He yawned and grabbed a stack of meat by its string. He scratched at his chest, then ripped his shirts off in annoyance.

 

Senses telling him they were safe, he headed back. Bundle of dinner carried in his mouth.

 

The twisty tunnel leading to the nest was fun. He left his scent trail all about it. There could be no mistaking that this place, nest it lead to, and everything in it was his.

 

When he came to the entrance he paused on the ceiling, watching.

 

There was a smokeless, heatless fire lighting up the room with a warm glow. It was bright, but not painfully so. Even though it wasn't real, it filled the cavern and tunnel with wood burning fire sounds.

 

His… companion… was pretending to toast marshmallows over the fake fire.

 

Their things were laid out in sloppy rows in one corner. Their sleeping bags set up on a raised ledge.

 

_Looks warm and cozy._

 

**_good nest_ **

 

His potential mate was tapping a long, thin device idly against his leg as he chewed. His wet jacket was off, in another corner, and he was wrapped in a thermal foil-esque survival ‘blanket’.

 

**_shiny_ **

 

Peter stuck the meat to the wall with a quiet ‘thwip’ then dropped down immediately behind his partner. He had the blanket off of him before his human senses realized he was back.

 

“Augh!” he yelped, flailing and trying to roll away. That was funny. Peter giggled.

 

“What the flark!”

 

“Shiny,” Peter explained. He rolled around the ground, playing with his prize.

 

Sam gaped at him.

 

The survival blanket had different, interesting smell-tastes than the caverns. The material itself, sharp, bitter, metallic.

 

**_not food_ **

 

_Definitely not food._

 

The scent of the person that had packed the kit. A young, human woman.

 

**_prey_ **

 

_No, not prey. No killing._

 

The plasticy, weird smell of a new car still clung to it.

 

“Why are you **naked**?”

 

The acidic, bright remains of the earlier snow they had trekked through were there. Even though dry he could smell-taste the residue it had left behind.

 

Peter rolled onto his back and raised his feet up, sticking them out past his head and wiggling his sock clad toes.

 

“Not naked.”

 

It sure was a good thing he was here to tell his partner that. How could he miss something so obvious. Perhaps his subtle showing off of his flexibility was **too**  subtle for a silly human.

 

He toed off his socks.

 

“Naked.”

 

Maybe that would help ease his partner's confusion.

 

The ‘blanket’ crinkled nicely as he touched his bare feet and palms against it.

 

“Crinkly,” Peter noted. Out loud for his partner’s benefit.

 

His teeth itched again. He chewed on the blanket as he contemplated the most interesting assortment of smell-tastes yet.

 

His partner.

 

“Sam,” he said around his mouthful of blanket.

 

“Are you… high?” Sam asked, approaching him like he was a rather dangerous wild animal. But approaching nonetheless.

 

Sam’s clothes, his soap, deodorant and shampoo. His cologne. Sam’s sweat. His scent that made him Sam that no amount of bathing and disguising other scents could erase. It was all there. Peter rubbed his cheek against the survival blanket.

 

Registering that his hopefully very soon to be mate asked him a question, he looked up from his sprawl on the floor. He tilted his head, rather like a confused dog. Sam could see now that his eyes were totally blown, blue-now red irises nearly lost to his pupils.

 

“Nooooo?” silly Sam. He was on the floor, not the ceiling. He resumed his chewing.

 

“What. The _flark_. Is. All over. Your face.”

 

Oooh this one was tricky, because he wasn't asking. But the words were most definitely a question when put all together.

 

“Good good good smell-taste but bad yuck taste-taste plant stuff,” Peter smiled.

 

“Okay… okay,” Sam put his hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked back at Peter.

 

Peter gave a hopeful wiggle.

 

“You're **red**.”

 

Peter rolled around. Squirming and wiggling in an effort to look at his face without a mirror. Then he noticed his hands, they were stained a pinkish red. He didn't bother to un-contort himself as he held out his hands to Sam.

 

“Red!”

 

“Great. Perfect. Just _flark’ng_  peachy,” Sam said.

 

Peter smiled.

 

“This place is safe, you said, we’ll be fine, you said,” Sam dropped down onto the floor, sitting with his knees raised. Head bowed.

 

“Safe,” Peter agreed.

 

He looked at Peter with reproach, “and now here you are, tripping balls, **naked** , and half spider. And here **I**  am, **cold** , **hungry** , and gonna have to keep you from hurting yourself.”

 

Peter rolled onto his stomach, and pointed at the meat he'd stuck up on the wall near the entrance.

 

“Food!”

 

He resumed chewing on the shiny blanket, watching Sam intently.

 

Sam made a plethora of funny noises. He wiggled as he waved his arms at the dinner.

 

“Where?! Did you find?! Jerky?!”

 

Peter settled his legs under him, slyly wiggling his hips. Another easy question, “The larder.”

 

More funny noises. More wiggling. Sam stared at him.

 

He wiggled his hips and tugged at the blanket. Gotta be **subtle**. Don't wanna get eaten now.

 

Sam frowned at him.

 

“Are you **eating**  that? Stop it!”

 

Peter trilled playfully.

 

“Don’t eat blankets! Bad Webs!” Sam said, reaching out to take the blanket away. Peter growled. Sam growled back. Peter dropped his chest lower and raised his butt higher.

 

Sam braced his legs and yanked.

 

Peter wiggled his hips.

 

“Dammit Webs, I am **not** playing tug of war with **my**  blanket. Give it back!”

 

“Mkay,” Peter said, letting go of the blanket to speak. Sam went sprawling at the unexpected lack of resistance. Peter giggled and wiggled.

 

“Fuck!” Sam yelped.

 
    
    
      **    
         _\( )/_
          /(O)\
      **
    

 

Peter was on top of him before he could even register movement.

 

“M'kay,” Peter said, nipping at his neck, fumbling at his shirt, grinding his erection against Sam’s hips.

 

“Shit, shit shit, Webs!” Sam said, pushing at Peter’s hands.

 

Peter growled and ripped Sam’s layered shirts down the middle, baring his chest. Totally unhindered by Sam's efforts to stop him.

 

“You’re fucking high, come on Peter!” Sam said, voice cracking.

 

Peter looked up, hesitating.

 

“Peter!” Sam said, “Peter snap out of it!”

 

Peter stared at him, his glowing, red eyes confused. He looked around them slowly, then looked back to Sam.

 

“Yeah, it’s okay, just, just calm down,” Sam said, voice shaking. Hesitatingly, Peter laid down.

 

On top of Sam. Sam squirmed. Peter wiggled and looked up at him hopefully. Sam stilled.

 

“Fuck?” Peter asked. Sam bit back another curse and reached up to pet Peter’s hair.

 
    
    
               *             ,
                           _/^\_
                          <     >
         *                 /.-.\         *
                  *        `/&\`                   *

 

“No,” Sam said, after a moment to recover, “No fucking.”

 

“M'kay,” Peter said, snuggling up close. Resting his head on Sam’s chest. His eyes drifted shut under Sam’s shaky petting.

 

Snores filled the cavern as Peter fell asleep. Tension melted out of Sam as Peter’s snores rumbled through him.

 

Sam slowly bonked his head against the floor.

 

“ _Flark, flark, flark’ng flark_ ,” Sam muttered in time with his head bonking. Doing his best to will away his own erection and sleep.

 

“You stupid fucking spider, why couldn’t you come onto me **sober** ,” Sam groaned.

 

Peter’s snoring was his only answer.

 

He stared at the red stuff smeared across Peter's face. Cautiously he brushed his fingers against it. It felt a bit crumbly. Peter stayed sleeping.

 

It smelled kind of familiar. It reminded him of hot desert days and cold iced tea. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them.

 

“Blegh, raw sumac?”

 

Peter snored.

 

“What the fuck is going on, Parker?” Sam wondered aloud, looking up at the smoked, possibly deer meat still stuck to the wall.

  
Eventually, the warmth of Peter’s body overcame the uncomfortable stone floor and Sam did sleep. He didn't even wake when the web dissolved, the food dropping loudly to the floor.

 

***

 

_**To Be Continued...** _


	3. Chapter Three: Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> _“What the fuck is going on, Parker?” Sam wondered aloud, looking up at the smoked, possibly deer meat still stuck to the wall._
> 
> _Eventually, the warmth of Peter’s body overcame the uncomfortable stone floor and Sam did sleep. He didn't even wake when the web dissolved, the food dropping loudly to the floor._
> 
> Now...

Sam woke up first, as he usually did. Peter was still nuzzled against his chest. Drooling.

 

“I liked that shirt, you know,” Sam said. Peter mumbled indistinctly and smacked his lips. “If you’re still high when you wake up I’m gonna scream.”

 

“Tha’s nice S’m,” Peter mumbled. He shifted in his sleep and, yup. Sam could now see that definitely had **not**  been a rock poking him. Peter was sporting a morning wood. Not that Sam was in that better of a state.

 

“Great, lovely. This isn’t awkward or weird **at all** ,” Sam groaned, squirming around and trying to get away from Peter’s grip. Based on his sleepy mumbling he **sounded**  back to normal.

 

Though was that a bit of fang poking out of his mouth?

 

“Webs, wake up. I have to pee,” Sam said, reaching up to poke at Peter’s ribs. Peter giggle-snorted and pushed groggily at Sam. Sam sucked in his breath as talons shredded his undershirt sleeve. He stopped his tickle assault and stared warily at his now exposed forearm.

 

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Sam muttered, he rested his hand against Peter’s back and watched him wake up. He blinked open blue eyes. Sam let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

 

“Um,” Peter said, blinking slowly.

 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Sam joked. Peter stared at him.

 

“I’m naked,” he declared. Sam rolled his eyes and snorted.

 

“I noticed. Now are you gonna let me up so I can pee or what?”

 

Peter rolled over and sat in a sort of crouch. Sam swallowed and tried to not notice how his position unintentionally showed off his shaved sack and raging boner.

 

Peter yawned and Sam’s attention was drawn to the very new, and very sharp looking fangs on his upper canines.

 

Sam stretched and stood up, walking over to the still playing app on the emergency tablet. The battery was at fifty percent.

 

“Well, at least these emergency tablets have a decent battery life,” he said, then looked around, squinting, “Where’s that charger?”

 

Peter moved to rub at his eyes. But stopped when he noticed his still stained hands.

 

“What the frick?” he held his hands out in front of him, noticing his talons for the the first time.

 

“Well, **these**  are new,” Peter said, staring at his hands. He dimly realized he could still smell-taste through them, and his feet. He flexed his toes, feeling the talons there dig into the rock with ease.

 

“About as new as these, I’m guessing,” Sam said, reaching over to flick at an exposed fang. Peter ran his tongue along them, then pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. He felt a pressure relieve itself as something thick and golden dripped out of his fang.

 

“Watch out, I think they’re envenomating,” Peter said with a frown.

 

“Or you’re a vampire spider,” Sam said cheerfully.

 

“While not impossible, extremely unlikely,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. He spotted what looked like a likely portable charging unit on the floor. He hopped over to the wall above it and picked it up.

 

“Does your charger look like this?” Peter asked, hopping back to land on the ceiling above Sam. Sam startled and then looked at the tool.

 

“Yeah, that’s it. These are supposed to be kinetically charged by walking but it didn’t work right. Yours was completely bunk, but mine kind of charges if you whack it,” Sam said, taking it and plugging it into the tablet, or trying to. The tablet was a StarkPad. The prototype charging bar was from Rand Industries. Some oversight lead to no compatible charging cable or adapter in the field kit.

 

“Well, that’s dumb as heck,” Peter said. Sam glared at the charging bar. He threw it at the wall and growled.

 

**_mate is hungry i’m not prey no eat_ **

 

_He’s just mad. Sam won't eat me._

 

Peter reached down to pet at Sam’s hair. A bit crunchy from his hair gel. His hair gel smell-tasted _**yuck bad** _

 

Sam looked up as Peter took his hand away.

 

“Come on, I gotta pee now too, and I don’t remember any stairs,” Peter said, crawling along the ceiling towards the hall leading to the main cavern. Sam shook his head and followed, trying not to stare at the strange sight of the fully naked, and hard, Peter sauntering across the ceiling. Well, sauntering as much as one can when also crawling.

 

Peter idly flexed his new talons as he crawled. His scent trail was all over the ceiling, and the walls. What had he been **doing**  last night?

 

There were no steps, or ramps, after all. Just hand and foot holds.

 

While Sam was contemplating this development he felt strong arms pick him up. Then they were falling down to the floor below. The tablet had been forgotten back in what Peter and Sam were both now thinking of as the sleeping cave.

 

**_nest_ **

 

_Sleeping. Cave._

 

The wind howled viciously outside, sounding nearly like frost wolves. But Peter’s spidey sense remained calm. Nothing more than the sounds of a raging blizzard entered the caverns.

 

Peter didn’t bother to set Sam down. Both because he was now blind in the dark tunnel, and because his smell-taste was comforting and

 

_**good** _

 

_Very good._

 

“Webs, I do **not**  wanna pee in the dark,” Sam complained.

 

“It’s not **that**  dark. And I can run back and grab an actual flash light. We’ve got half a dozen I’m sure,” Peter said, striding upright through the tunnel. Though he really wanted to crawl above. Sam **probably**  wouldn’t appreciate it.

 

He could smell-taste his own tracks from yesterday. By the pool his and Sam’s trail intermingled. It sent a funny feeling through him as the soles of his feet came in contact with their combined scents.

 

_**mine** _

 

_My **friend**.  _

 

The facilities were farther away from the pool he had stumbled in previously. He noticed a smaller pool with a sandy bottom set below the bigger pool as he continued past their not yet a day old tracks.

 

“Okay here, aim that way,” Peter said, as he sat Sam on his feet. He grabbed his hand and pointed together towards the facilities.

 

“I’m not gonna fall off a cliff or something, am I?” Sam asked, shifting his weight nervously. Or possibly shifting his weight due to his bladder. Hard to tell, really. Peter shook his head.

 

“There aren’t any cliffs, just miss your feet and you’ll be fine,” Peter said. He dropped their hands and focused on losing his erection so he could pee. Next to him Sam was making the same morning struggle.

 

Finished, Peter leapt over to the smaller pool and rinsed off his hands and face.

 

“I’m gonna go find a flashlight. Don’t fall in the bath,” Peter called. He leapt silently up to the ceiling and made his way back to the nest. Not sticking around for Sam’s protests.

 

Peter shook his head again. No, not a nest, the sleeping cave.

 

When he made it back in he stared at the holo fire. After a few moments he gave himself a little shake before arching down to turn it off.

 

He found a little LED flashlight in the row of their things. It was far, far too bright. He felt himself hiss when he turned it on.

 

“Stop that,” he told himself, “It’s just a flippin’ flashlight.”

 

He turned it off and made his way back to Sam.

 

When he returned, Sam had moved closer to the pools. And had his shirts off. What was left of his shirts off. Peter felt a tiny flash of guilt at that. Sure it was his fault but not quite sure **how**.

 

He paused a moment to silently admire Sam’s strong frame. Sam had bulked up a bit over the years, no longer quite so lean as he’d been in high school. Still just as short though. Peter grinned.

 

Sam looked up at him.

 

“You know your eyes are glowing again, so if you’re planning on scaring me into the water it ain’t gonna work,” Sam told him. Peter stuck out his tongue.

 

“Are you sassing me?” Sam asked at the suspicious silence.

 

“Nnnooooooo, why would **I** sass **you**?” Peter said, feigning innocence.

 

“You are like, the worst liar in the history of liars,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

 

“I found a flashlight!” Peter said, “Heads up!”

 

Sam ducked as Peter tossed the flashlight his way. It clattered loudly, settling against the wall.

 

“Webs! What the _flark_?” Sam yelped.

 

Peter laughed. Then noticed that Sam didn’t seem cold any longer.

 

“Hey! You’re not shivering,” he said, smiling.

 

Sam grumbled under his breath. Peter pretended he couldn’t hear him. Not that he could understand him anyways, he was speaking Xandarian.

 

“Yeah, this weird hot spring keeps it warm down here. Humid as fuck all too.”

 

“I think there’s a scrubby tub and a soaky tub. You wanna get clean? You kinda stink,” Peter said. That was only half true. Sam stunk of soap and deodorant and cologne. Laundry detergent, and hair gel. New car, and clothes. Things he’d never noticed enough to be bothered by before.

 

“ **I**  kinda stink? Like you smell like flowers!” Sam said, indignant. Peter shrugged. Flowers were a weird thing to smell like.

 

_**flowers have prey** _

 

_No, I don’t think that’s it. No killing._

 

Not killing was important. Flowers did attract bugs, but the thought of eating bugs was a bit gross. Sam needed to smell like Sam again. Peter shifted his stance on the ceiling. Sam settled down and started taking off his hiking boots.

 

“Are you gonna sit up there creepin’ or are you gonna get the flashlight and turn it on?” Sam asked, moving on to his socks. Peter startled at that. He **was** being **super** creepy.

 

He slunk guiltily over towards the flashlight.

 

“Uh, sorry. I’ve been feeling kinda… weird,” Peter said. Not quite sure how to best articulate the entire array of ‘what the frick’ going on with his body right now. Sam stood up with a frown, undoing his belt.

 

“You’re probably hung over or whatever from whatever the fuck you found that made you higher than stationary orbit,” Sam said, popping his fly and shimmying out of his pants and boxers in one go. It was just ridiculous to think that plain, ordinary sumac had been the culprit.

 

Peter stared, Sam’s shimmying was extremely interesting.

 

“I’m not hung over,” he mumbled.

 

“You’re creepin’ again. Light please?”

 

Peter shook his head and turned on the flashlight, careful to point it away from both of them. It was powerful for a little light. Sam blinked rapidly and looked about the cavern. Peter hissed again, and crawled back over to Sam. Perching above him and glowering at the darker part of the room.

 

Sam reached up and flicked the top of his head.

 

“You said there was a ‘scrubby pool’ but I don’t see no loofahs,” Sam accused.

 

“Double negative makes a positive, and there aren’t any loofahs, no,” Peter said. Sam huffed in annoyance. Peter leapt into the smaller pool from his ceiling perch. Barely leaving a ripple as he submerged fully. Sam shuddered, heart thudding at the unexpected display of grace. Trying hard not to think about how effective a predator a feral spider would actually be.

 

Peter bolted up out of the pool, splashing wildly.

 

“Hot! It’s hot!”

 

Sam laughed, relieved.

 

“Dumbass why wouldn’t it be hot?” he said, still grinning. He slowly stepped in. It was **perfectly**  hot, “I dunno why you’re complaining. This is great!”

 

There was a ledge around two sides of the shallow pool. Sam slowly lowered himself down, sighing in bliss.

 

“It’s hot,” Peter said, sulking. Sam splashed at him. Peter hissed and sunk lower, red eyes glowing.

 

“Stop pouting.”

 

“ ‘m not pouting,” Peter mumbled, not bothering to raise his mouth fully above the water.

 

“You said ‘scrubby pool’. I heard it. Where is the scrub stuff?” Sam drawled, stretching lazily.

 

Peter picked up two handfuls of sand and floated closer. Sam was watching him out of the corner of his eye, he could tell. He looked like he was relaxing, and maybe he **was**. But he was also paying attention to Peter.

 

_**mine** _

 

Peter wiggled a bit. Sam splashed him. Peter hissed again, dropping the sand.

 

“Webs, focus. Scrubbing. Getting clean. How do?”

 

“Sand,” he said, resuming his sullen, mostly submerged pouting.

 

Sam dunked under at that, and came back up scrubbing himself with a handful of sand.

 

Peter watched him for a moment, more, then started scrubbing himself clean as well. The hot water that was thigh high on Peter was hip height on Sam.

 

Sam turned his back to him, and wiggled a bit. Peter again locked his eyes on Sam at the motion.

 

“Can you get my back? Since you’re the one that’s so picky about icky dude smells,” Sam said.

 

It wasn’t the ‘dude smells’ that were offensive, but Aunt May didn’t raise no fool. Peter reached out and rubbed down Sam’s back. Careful of his new, sharp talons. Sam squirmed and groaned under his hands. Peter swallowed, his brisk cleaning scrubs slowing down into gentler rubs.

 

Sam’s smell-taste was  _**good good want want yes** _ and complicated. With nothing else to focus on he could feel, or possibly see, he wasn’t quite sure, Sam’s pulse under his hands. The sand grains had their own, quartzy ‘flavor’. Sam ‘tasted’ like Sam.

 

_**want mine** _

 

_Of course._

 

_Of course he ‘tastes’ like himself, what else would he taste like._

 

_**trust** _

 

Trust so total and absolute Peter wanted to run away from him, run and run and never look back. And at the same time wanted to fling him against a likely corner and fuck him senseless, make him scream and wail until his voice gave out. He wanted to beg and plead and apologize for being such a terrible **not human**  freak. And yet wanted to go to to toe with The Juggernaut and The Sinister Six and Modok all at once and show Sam what he was **really** capable of.

 

_**enemies are prey** _

 

_No killing._

 

Peter ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, talons teasing at Sam’s scalp. Sam shivered and leaned into his touch.

 

_Can’t really take all of them on at once without killing them, can I?_

 

_**hunger** _

 

_Can I?_

 

Sam was hungry. He should bring him something to eat. Eating was good. There were protein bars in their packs, and e-rats in the prototype kits. And the foggy memory of smoked moose strips, for some weird reason. Under his palms he could 'taste'  _**lust** _

 

Peter ran his hands down Sam’s back to rest on his hips. He stared at the back of Sam’s neck. Silent, feeling  _**trust lust hunger lust affection lust** _

 

He stepped forward, hot water swirling around his thighs. The head of his hard cock pressing into the small of Sam’s back. He stilled, waiting. Sam 'tasted' of  _**trust lust need** _

 

Sam’s pulse was racing, thrumming under his touch. Peter’s heart was hammering, waiting for something, anything. Sam rocked back against him, panting softly feeling of  _**need lust need need** _

 

Slowly, he bent his head down, biting gently at the back of Sam’s neck. Sam’s quiet ‘fuck yes’ might as well have been a scream. Peter reached his hand down, around to Sam’s abs. He trailed his fingers down further to Sam’s thigh, sharp talons dragging along his skin. Water rippling quietly at his motions.

 

Sam shuddered and hissed at that. Peter moved his bites along his shoulders, nipping just a bit harder. Sam gasped another pleased curse at the sharp pleasure-pain.

 

Peter cupped Sam’s balls, teasing them gently. Sam’s breath caught as Peter oh so lightly touched his new, sharp talons to them.

 

He teased him slowly, biting his back gently. Careful of his dangerous, new, venomous fangs. Sam’s shivers now had nothing to do with the cold.

 

“Webs,” Sam groaned, trying to turn around. Peter let him, his heart pounding.

 

Sam’s quiet gasps and little noises were totally different than what he’d expected. He’d always been loud with his flavor of the month, too loud for their tiny ass one bedroom apartment. Even on the couch it was impossible to ignore him.

 

Maybe it was the semi-darkness, combined with their strange surroundings that were keeping him hushed.

 

Well, what must be semi-darkness to Sam. He could see him perfectly now. With the flashlight on, even pointed away from them, he could see the flush across Sam’s chest and neck. Even the hint of hazel-green iris past his dilated pupils as he stared back at him.

 

Sam reached out to him, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Peter leaned into him, nuzzling noses instead. His stupid fangs were dripping as much as his cock. He shouldn’t risk it. Sam huffed in annoyance, nuzzling him back even as he reached down to stroke Peter’s dick.

 

Peter pulled him closer, trilling softly, running his hands along Sam’s back. Sam laughed lightly, teasing his foreskin now on the upstroke. Peter nuzzled into his neck, feeling his strong pulse beating under his lips. He nipped reflexively as Sam changed his pace and twisted his wrist just **so**.

 

“Fuck,” Sam whispered, shivering again at the bite. For one heart stopping second Peter thought he’d bitten too hard. But a quick caress of the bite and he knew Sam was fine. Already bruising but no pierced skin.

 

That pressure, good pressure. Duly noted.

 

He returned that hand to Sam’s back, with his other hand he reached down. Past Sam’s hand stroking his own cock. He teased the head of Sam’s cut cock, lightly, so, so lightly. He traced patterns along his frenulum with his talons. Sam’s sure, confident handjob wavered. Shaking now, and panting as Peter teased at him, he continued gamely on.

 

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped at Peter’s next bite. This one to his shoulder. He bit a blazing trail across that shoulder, pausing only to scrape his fangs lightly along Sam’s collarbone. Golden venom ran down his chest, “Webs,” Peter resumed his bites along his other shoulder, “Please!”

 

Peter wrapped his hand fully around Sam’s cock, partially submerged in the hot water as it was. He started stroking, fast and hard. Sam sobbed out nothing noises and slumped into his chest. The water splashing up against their bellies with his motions. His own pleasure wound tighter.

 

Sam abandoned his earlier finesse and stroked Peter’s cock in rhythm. His other hand hanging desperately onto Peter’s hip. He bit at Peter’s chest and Peter felt himself growl.

 

Sam growled right back, biting harder. Dimly, Peter realized he was rocking his hips in time to Sam’s strokes. That curling pleasure was winding tighter, nearly too tight now.

 

Now Sam’s nails were digging into his hip and the head of his cock was flaring under his own hand. Sam tossed his head back, gasping and grunting as he came over Peter’s hand  _**salty bitter spicy tangy** _ and their stomachs. Peter’s own orgasm took him by surprise. He let go of Sam’s cock, holding onto his hips as Sam stroked him through his orgasm. His come spilled out over Sam’s hand, sticky, white and thick.

 

Shakily, Peter grabbed at Sam’s hand. Intending to pull him off his sensitive cock. He froze at the ‘taste’ on his fingers of their combined come.

 

**_mine_ **

 

_Mine._

 

He slid his hand up Sam’s forearm, smearing their scent along his skin. Sam **did**  let go of his dick, but he didn’t really notice. Enthralled by this new sensation and urge combined.

 

“I thought you hated jizz. Your last boy was **constantly**  complaining to me about how you made him spit just so you wouldn’t have to swallow,” Sam said. More amused at Peter’s weirdness than creeped out.

 

“Radioactive, remember. I dunno what the long term effects of low dose oral radiation are,” Peter explained. Reaching the crook of Sam's elbow and pressing sticky fingers against the pulse point there, enthralled.

 

“So you **do**  know what the effects of rubbing your radioactive sex gravy all over my arm are then?” Sam asked facetiously. Peter jerked his hand away as if burned.

 

“Shit, no, sorry!” he said, cupping a handful of hot water and rinsing Sam off.

 

“Webs, you idiot. I fly through space. I’m pretty sure if radiation could kill me I’d already be dead at least a ka-jillion times,”  Sam laughed.

 

“Ka-jillion isn’t a real number,” Peter corrected, then pulled Sam under and finished wiping him clean. He leapt onto the wall above the larger pool. Sam came back up, sputtering and wiping at his face.

 

“Webs you ass!” Sam snapped, splashing water at him once he saw where he was perched. Peter grinned back at him, fangs still dripping. Sam smirked at him. Peter crept further away, into the corner. He **knew**  that stupid smirk.

 

Sam climbed up the raised partition between the shallower and deeper pools. Water trickled over the edge, into the shallower pool as he sunk down into the soaking pool. Peter eyed him cautiously. He was still smirking. Smirking and staring at him.

 

Slowly Peter leaned his back against the wall, still perching with his feet flat. In a position that just **looked**  uncomfortable, and Sam knew took most people years of yoga to even be close to holding for any length of time.

 

When Sam’s smirk got toothier Peter couldn’t take it any longer.

 

“What! Why are you so, so!” Peter gestured at all of Sam.

 

“You missed a spot,” Sam drawled gesturing towards Peter with his clean hands.

 

Peter looked down.

 

“Or several,” Sam stretched out, more water splashing over the side with his motions. Then rested his arms along the ledge and leaned his head back. Totally relaxed. Totally smug.

 

Peter hadn’t bothered to scrub at himself. He was still sticky with their jizz. Mostly his, probably. And his fangs were still slowly dripping golden venom, which was running down his chest. He’d thought that had just been water. He felt himself flush, embarrassed. Sam laughed.

 

“Are you **blushing**? Seriously? After we just jerked each other off in some weird ass spider cave, **now**  you blush?” Sam said, smiling. He shook his head, “You’re something else, Webs.”

 

Peter slunk over to the bathing pond and scrubbed himself clean. He poked at the roof of his mouth, trying to stop the venom from dripping by expressing more of it. Sam floated on his back, arms out and head resting on the ledge. Watching him.

 

“I can’t believe you still have venom in there. You should have seen how much you gushed when you came,” Sam said. Peter blushed harder at that. Sam grinned, “You made almost as much spider goo as you did dude goo.”

 

Peter stuck out his tongue and scrunched up his nose.

 

“Wow golly, that sure sounds sexy,” he said sarcastically, “ **goo** yum. Gee whiz that sure makes me wanna suck your cock, let me tell you.”

 

“You wanna suck my cock anyways, don’t lie,” Sam said, full of confidence, eyes drifting shut.

 

Satisfied that he was sufficiently clean, Peter hopped over to the wall above Sam. Sam tracked him lazily. On the lookout for pranks but too content to care.

 

“Mmm, yeah, I kinda do,” Peter agreed. Slinking low into the pool with nary a ripple. Sam watched his approach with growing concern.

 

“Like, now? I dunno what you think you’re gonna get. I don’t got your crazy spider endurance you know,” Sam said. Not quite concerned enough to swim away as Peter drew closer.

 

Peter swam underneath him and popped up on his other side. Eyes and nose above water, everything else submerged.

 

“You look like a frog.”

 

Peter lifted his head higher and bared his fangs.

 

“A very toothy frog.”

 

“I do not look like a frog!”

 

Venom leaked again from his fangs. Sam flicked water at him.

 

“An ooey, gooey, toothy froggie woggie.”

 

Peter snarled, low and deep. The water rippled.

 

“Ribbit, ribbit.”

 

Peter pounced, snarling again and slamming his hands down next to Sam’s head. Water splashing, rock cracking at the impact. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, his feet pressing against Sam’s calves  _ **trust contentment amusement affection**_.

 

Peter’s breath left him at the smell-taste of Sam’s emotions through the soles of his feet. He stared, somewhat stupidly he was sure, at Sam’s almost lazy, smirking smile. Underlying all of that though, was  _**hunger hunger hunger** _ which was weird. Peter should be ravenous by now, they hadn’t eaten dinner last night. Had they?

 

Abruptly Peter stood up and waded to the edge of the soaking pool, staring down the tunnel leading to the main cavern.

 

Behind him, he heard Sam change his position. Probably sitting up now.

 

“What’s up?” Sam asked, serious.

 

“What happened last night?” Peter stared down the tunnel, as if it could tell him what his jumbled memories meant.

 

“I was hoping you could tell me. You came back tripping balls, naked and covered in sumac. Oh and carrying deer jerky you said you got from ‘the larder’.”

 

Peter flexed his hands and touched his face, frowing.

 

“Poison sumac?”

 

“No, pay attention. Sumac sumac. Just sumac. Like the kind you make iced sweet tea with. Anyways, you tried to eat my blanket and passed out after I took it back.”

 

Peter’s gaze wandered to the sloppy pile of Sam’s clothes nearby.

 

“I ripped your shirt.”

 

The water rippled against him as Sam moved. A shrug, probably.

 

“Like I said, you were higher than stationary orbit.”

 

“You trust me.”

 

“With my life.”

 

Sam’s unhesitating, instant reply shocked him. How could he be so sure? He didn’t notice Sam’s approach.

 

“Peter, how many times have you literally saved my life?”

 

Peter started then turned to face him. How many times **had**  he saved Sam from being crushed to death, or ripped apart, or lost forever through time and space, or-

 

Sam snapped his fingers in front of his face, Peter blinked and refocused on his eyes.

 

“At least as many times as I’ve saved **your** life, hey?”

 

Peter swallowed at that, throat tight.

 

“So if I tell you that you didn’t hurt me, just scared the thunder out of me and passed out, why you think something else happened? I’m fine, you’re fine. We’re good.”

 

“I... I ripped your shirt,” Peter said weakly.

 

Sam pulled him down for a hug, he pressed a tender kiss to his neck. He grunted as Peter picked him up and held him close.

 

“Yeah, you owe me a new shirt. So what?”

 

“I **ripped** your **shirt** ,” Peter said again. Stuck on the hazy memory of lust and the overpowering smell-taste of good good good.

 

“I’m okay,” Sam said, pressing further kisses against the side of his head. Peter shook.

 

“I'm okay,” Sam repeated, “You didn't hurt me.”

 

“I, I almost. God Sam, I was,” Peter hiccuped.

 

“You didn't. So stop worrying you dumbass,” Sam said, voice rough.

 

Peter raised his head, staring at Sam through his tears. He didn't deserve him.

 

“I-" Peter started to voice that very thought. Sam grabbed his cheeks and stared into his eyes.

 

“If the next words out your mouth aren't ‘I'm going to feed you food and make you come’ then I'm gonna punch you.”

 

Peter closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.

 

“I'm gonna feed you and give you all the orgasms.”

 

Sam smiled and gave his cheeks a pat.

 

“Close enough for kinetic strikes! Come on, let's eat!”

 

***

_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter Four: Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> _“If the next words out your mouth aren't ‘I'm going to feed you food and make you come’ then I'm gonna punch you.”_
> 
> _Peter closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again._
> 
> _“I'm gonna feed you and give you all the orgasms.”_
> 
> _Sam smiled and gave his cheeks a pat._
> 
> _“Close enough for kinetic strikes! Come on, let's eat!”_
> 
> Now...

Peter worried at a moose strip as he watched Sam try to set up the portable stove. Peter had sadly not been able to convince him that it was warm enough to go naked. Even though it  **totally** was. So he was working in his pants and socks.

 

Sam had left his ruined shirts down by the baths, to use as towels. Peter sunk a bit lower at the vague memories that thought brought about.

 

Having something to sink his fangs into was nice. The tough meat massaged his gums and venom glands. He'd been working at it long enough that he had a pretty good idea that at least some of the compounds in his venom were powerful enzymes. 

 

Not unexpected, by any means. 

 

The growing urge to feed the chewed up, envenomated meat to Sam was really weird though. He was trying to suppress the urge by chomping at the no-longer-all-that-tough meat. It was mostly successful.

 

As long as Sam didn't have any cuts in his mouth, or insides, he'd be fine. 

 

Probably fine. 

 

Most likely totally fine. 

 

Definitely, definitely fine.

 

Heat should denature the more deadly compounds in his venom. 

 

There had been a pantry, he hazily recalled. Not full, but there **had** been food in it. As long as he avoided the alleged ‘sumac’ basket he'd be fine.

 

Probably.

 

Sam had finally realized that the battery for the portable stove was dead. The inbuilt micro solar panels were, of course, useless in a sunless cave. He did have a multi tool and a charged battery though. Somewhere in here.

 

“Hey Webs, you seen the charging brick?” Sam asked glancing up

 

Peter glanced about, then pointed at where it had fallen earlier. Feigning nonchalance quite expertly, if he did say so himself. And he did, “Yeah, over there.”

 

“Thanks Webs,” Sam said, moving to get the power source.

 

Peter rolled over and snagged the small pot set out, forgotten by Sam.

 

“I'll be right back,” he mumbled around the softening jerky. Leaping out the cave and hopping through the tunnel.

 

***

 

“What took you so long? You fall… in?” Sam started to say, looking up from his ‘repair’ efforts to get the portable electric stove running. He trailed off in confusion as he noticed the steaming pot of stew Peter was carefully carrying to him.

 

“So you **did**  take my pot!” Sam said. Pointing his multi tool, screwdriver at the ready, at Peter.

 

“I made dinner!” Peter said with a beaming smile. His fangs shining, but no longer dripping. 

 

“Breakfast, actually, and um,” Sam sat back and waved his multi tool about in a vague sort of gesture, “Where, um,” he looked down and rubbed at his face, then dropped his multi tool on the ground and set his shoulders, “Where did you find **food**  and is it gonna kill me?”

 

Peter opened his mouth.

 

“I swear to Odin if you say ‘The Larder’ I’m going to throw you at the moon,” Sam threatened.

 

“Don’t be silly, Sunshine. Fruit and veggies don’t go in the larder,” Peter said, lips quirking up, as he readied his punchline.

 

Sam sighed in relief.

 

“They were in the pantry!”

 

Sam stared at him. 

 

He grinned.

 

Sam looked at his own hands as if he was re-evaluating every single decision he had made in his life that led him up to this moment.

 

Peter sat down across from him and pushed the stew across the floor, towards him. Sam looked up at him. 

 

“If this kills me I’m never sucking your dick again,” Sam said. Peter snorted.

 

“It isn’t gonna kill you,” Peter said, “and you haven’t even sucked it the first time, Buckethead.”

 

Sam eyed Peter rather hungrily. Peter shifted nervously under his gaze. 

 

Sam slowly took his time running his eyes along Peter’s still naked body. Peter had to suppress the ridiculous urge to wiggle at him the longer he stared.

 

“You know I can fix that. Right now,” Sam said, voice low. Peter shivered, cock hardening. Sam smirked, still watching him intently.

 

“But I made you brinner,” Peter whined, shifting his weight nervously. 

 

“Brinner? Seriously?” Sam rolled his eyes.

 

Peter pouted.

 

Sam sighed.

 

“Seriously, the only fucking guy on the planet that would rather feed me than get his dick sucked,” Sam grumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his own titanium spork. He took a bite of the stew, glowering at Peter as he chewed.

 

Peter settled back down, urge to wiggle much less intense. Sam swallowed.

 

“Mmm, yum. It’s great. There. Now. Your dick, my mouth, let’s go,” Sam said dropping his spork back in the pot and pouncing at Peter.

 

Peter picked him up and swung him around. Unwilling to let him get the upperhand just on principle. Also not wanting to knock over Sam’s ‘brinner’ in their distraction.

 

He dropped down to his knees as Sam’s warm, wet mouth found his cock. He might have growled, or hissed. He wasn’t quite sure.

 

Sam hummed smugly around his head, teasing his foreskin in absolutely devious ways. His pleasure started to wind tight at the sight of **Sam**  sucking on his cock. 

 

How many sleepless nights had he had to listen to him giving head while all he’d had for company was his hand? 

 

Too many. 

 

No more.

 

_**mine** _

 

He was still holding onto Sam’s sides, and his scent-taste was

 

_**play lust affection lust(?) hunger** _

 

Sam brought his hands into it, stroking his shaft as he sucked and teased his head and foreskin. Peter did growl then, and felt his talons dig into Sam’s skin. A quick caress to check confirmed no broken skin. Also confirmed that Sam **really**  liked that. 

 

This smell-taste thing was **super**  handy. 

 

He smirked at his own joke, then trilled as Sam did something absolutely delightful that brought him closer much faster than he’d planned. He pulled Sam’s head off. Sam Did Not want to stop and fought him to stay on.

 

“S-sorry,” he gasped as Sam glared up at him, hands still working his cock. Mouth shiny with spit and precum. He was being utterly relentless. Peter whined and squirmed, “Getting close.”

 

“Good,” Sam growled, he felt   _ **hunger delight lust pleasure**_

 

Peter let him go, and Sam resumed his interrupted blow job with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. No more delightful teasing of his foreskin. He instead did something **amazing**  with his tongue and took him in as deep as he could. Bringing his hands up to meet his lips he worked his cock furiously.

 

Peter felt that tightly coiled spring of pleasure crossover, and nearly pulled Sam off. But God, he was totally right, if radiation could hurt him he’d already be...

 

“Hnng! Sam, I’m gonna come,” he gasped out, giving him the chance to pull off. Sam locked eyes with him, his body language a challenge. His ‘taste’ _**pleasure satisfaction possession affection**_  screaming ‘you’re mine’. 

 

Even as he knelt before him in this cave, sprawled awkwardly on the cold stone floor so he could better suck his cock. That was such a Sam thing. Challenging him even in his submission. 

 

Peter’s orgasm ripped through him. He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he emptied his load into Sam's mouth. 

 

Watching Sam swallow his come did **things**  to him. Sam seemed to know it, and kept licking the head of his cock and swallowing until there was not a drop left in him. Peter thought he might actually pass out from the pleasure of it.

 

He moaned and clumsily tugged Sam off, scraping at his scalp before letting him go. This time, Sam went willingly. He pushed himself up to his knees and wiped at his slick face with the back of his arm.

 

Peter watched him, dazed, submitting to Sam as he tugged him down for their first kiss. The taste of his own come on Sam’s lips, on his tongue was maddening. Sam was his, his, **his**. And if he wasn’t so exhausted he’d totally fuck his brains out.

 

As it was, he had nothing left in him. He drug him down to the cave floor, and buried his face against his neck.

 

“Mmm, you’re… mmmmnnn,” Peter mumble against Sam’s skin. Pressing his lips against his pulse and clinging to him with his hands. Even his smell-taste of _**hunger hunger hunger**_ wasn’t enough to wring more than a half hearted wiggle out of him. He felt Sam laugh, and _**happy smug possession affection**_  floated over the pestering _**hunger**_

 

“You're pretty mmmm yourself, Webs,” Sam said, teasing. Peter nipped at his throat and Sam moaned.

 

Peter licked him, then nipped again.

 

“Fuck. You horn dog,” Sam laughed, “I'm seriously starving. Give me a sec to eat whatever this is.”

 

Peter tried to explain that yes, he did know how hungry Sam was. Because he could smell-taste it, “Hunnnnngry hhhhhngry hhhngry, smmm taste,” huh that didn't go as well as he'd hoped.

 

Sam snorted and sat up. Peter sat up with him, chest to back. Resting his chin on top of Sam's head.

 

“I tasted it already. It isn't terrible.”

 

Peter made a pleased sort of sound at that.

 

Sam reached over and picked up the now cool enough to eat stew. Peter stayed stuck to him as he moved.

 

Peter again made a happy little sound as Sam dug into the food with apparent gusto. 

 

Most of the way through, when Sam's insistent -hunger hunger hunger- had died down to a less alarming -hunger contentment- Sam started poking at the contents of his ‘brinner'.

 

“What's in this, anyway?”

 

Peter mumbled a response into Sam's hair.

 

“Some kind of really tart fruit.”

 

“Pear,” Peter mumbled, a bit more clearly this time.

 

Sam took another bite, chewing slowly.

 

“Something sorta like potatoes.”

 

“Whhhhat’ssssss taterssss precioussss,” Peter hissed, then giggled.

 

Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“Did you find some flour or something?”

 

“Huh?” Peter nuzzled into Sam's hair.

 

“To make the roux? It's not half bad,” Sam said around a mouthful of stew, “Considering **you**  made it, I mean,” a swallow, “It isn't nearly as burned as usual, that is.” 

 

“Roux?” Peter asked, trailing his fingers along Sam's naked abs in nonsense patterns.

 

“Uh, yeah. The roux,” Sam said, going for another bite, “You know. the stuff you used to thicken the stew?”

 

Peter buried his head against Sam's shoulder.

 

“The stuff without which some found veggies and hot water in a pot would just be a really sad soup.”

 

“Ohhhhhhh. The ‘roux’ hah hah, yeah. Roux!”

 

Sam dropped his spork back in the pot.

 

“Webs.”

 

“Thaaaat’s what that’s called. **Roux**.”

 

“ **Webs**.”

 

Sam turned around, looking at Peter. Peter pulled away and crouched down. Intently scratching a little Spider-Man spider logo into the floor. Very intently.

 

“Peter,” Sam growled, “What did I just eat?”

 

“Pears, ‘n roots, ‘n msss,” Peter mumbled, trailing off into incomprehension towards the end.

 

“Pears and roots and, what was that? Moss?”

 

Peter started scratching a Nova star behind the spider. Making a crude bas relief.

 

“Where did you find _flark'ng_  moss in this dark ass cave?”

 

Peter looked up, fangs still dry. Exuding guilt and wearing his ‘I messed up bad and have no idea what to do so I'm gonna pretend everything is totally fine please don't kill me oh God why is this not working’ expression. 

 

Sam was unfortunately rather familiar with that one.

 

“What did you **feed**  me?”

 

Peter opened his mouth.

 

“Stop dicking around and tell me!” Sam snapped, leaping to his feet.

 

“Moose jerky. It turned into gravy when I added water.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath.

 

Peter looked up hopefully.

 

“You're not mad I fed you spider juiced moose gravy?” he asked.

 

Sam snarled and dropped his hands to his sides, balling his up into fists.

 

“Of course I'm fucking pissed you idiot!”

 

Peter cowered into his crouch.

 

“You snuck around behind my back to feed me your gross half eaten, possibly poison leftovers!”

 

“Toxin, not poison,” Peter squeaked even as he dropped from his crouch into a full bow. Arms outstretched and ass raised.

 

“Like that’s any better!”

 

“Yes! Poison is ingested, toxin is injected!” Peter blurted, panicked. Shaking.

 

“Ragh!” Sam yelled, pulling at his own hair, “It's still fucking creepy you fed me that shit without telling me first!”

 

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” Peter wailed, “I won't do it again! I dunno why I did! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

 

“Damn straight you won't do it again,” Sam said, voice a bit rough as he watched Peter pleading before him.

 

“I'm sorry. I dunno what came over me! I just. I just had to!” Peter glanced up from his bow, trying to gauge Sam's mood. 

 

Dang but he wanted badly to touch him, pet him. Feel for sure his exact mood. Calm him down however he could.

 

Sam’s eyes were dark, watching him intently. Though not his face. Peter wiggled his hips. Sam licked his lips.

 

“It's a crying shame we don't have any lube,” Sam growled, “Or I'd really make you sorry. Just don't-”

 

“We have lube,” Peter said, voice small.

 

“Wh-what?” Sam said, startled. He locked gazes with Peter, “Why?”

 

Peter blushed and looked down.

 

“I was gonna, um, I thought, maybe, uh, I wanna be, hnnng,” Peter said, stopping and starting nervously before closing his eyes, gritting his teeth and shouting, “Sam will you be my boyfriend!”

 

Sam's silence felt deafening. Peter trembled, staying bowed, barely suppressing the stupid urge to wiggle to try and appease his mate. 

 

“What,” Sam said, half laughing with disbelief, “Like, go on dates and shit?”

 

Peter slumped, head resting against the cool stone floor.

 

“Yeah, just…  just forget it, I'll… I'll go find my pants and-” Peter said sadly, starting to stand up.

 

“Webs you idiot, stop that shit. I literally **just**  sucked your dick,” Sam snapped pushing him back down, onto his knees, “Were you there? Cause I know I was thirsty as fuck and not  trying to hide it one bit!”

 

Peter looked up at him, lips trembling.

 

“I, I thought it was just lust. The heat of the moment. Crazy spider pheromones, or some kind of weird cave juju. Or maybe-”

 

Sam redirected his hands from his belt buckle to Peter's face, cupping his cheeks. He brushed away his tears with his thumbs.

 

“Peter, of course I'll date you. I'll move our beds together as soon as we get back.”

 

He pulled him up for a sweet kiss, crouching down to meet his lips. Peter sagged into his hands with relief.

 

“I've been wanting to date you for a while, you ridiculous goober. I promise it isn't whatever weirdness you’re such a magnet for making me want you,” Sam said, nuzzling noses tenderly.

 

“But what if-”

 

“Magic that strong never lasts that long, you know. We've both been hit with it enough, and it's never lasted more than a week. Tops,” Sam added, trying to preempt Peter's worry train.

 

“Yeah, that was one weird week,” Peter agreed, “but wait! How long have you liked me? How can we be sure it isn't-”

 

Sam laughed at that, then kissed Peter soundly.

 

“You web headed idiot. I've wanted to date you since before I met you,” Sam said, standing back up and ruffling Peter's hair, “I mean, who doesn't wanna date Spider-Man? Have you seen what spandex does to your ass? I'm pretty sure it's illegal in **at least** half a dozen systems.”

 

“Oh! Really?” Peter asked. He was sure he was smiling somewhat foolishly. He felt lighter than air. Like he could swing through the city forever and ever and never get tired.

 

“Really really,” Sam said with a fond smile, then a smirk, “but then I met you and you were a total dick. And, well, maybe date isn't the right word for what I wanted to do too you **then**.”

 

Peter winced at the memory of how he'd acted way back then. He'd been so full of himself.

 

“But then you were just as hot as you looked, and we were basically the same age, and even though you were an ass you were actually pretty cool,” Sam shrugged, “So, everything check out, worry wart? You satisfied I ain't been mind whammied?”

 

Peter laughed weakly.

 

“Yeah, wow. Um, I feel kind of stupid now. I uh,” Peter rubbed the back of his head, “I think, in retrospect, you were probably my first guy crush. I just, you know, didn't wanna be even… more… weird...”

 

Peter trailed off awkwardly.

 

Sam sighed and pulled Peter in for a hug.

  
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, before kissing Peter softly.

***

_**To Be Continued...** _


	5. Chapter Five: Umami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> _“Yeah, wow. Um, I feel kind of stupid now. I uh,” Peter rubbed the back of his head, “I think, in retrospect, you were probably my first guy crush. I just, you know, didn't wanna be even… more… weird...”_
> 
> _Peter trailed off awkwardly._
> 
> _Sam sighed and pulled Peter in for a hug._
> 
> _“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, before kissing Peter softly._
> 
> Now...

Peter wrapped his arms around Sam and kissed him tentatively back. As he ran his hands along Sam’s back, his comforting smell-taste of _**affection happiness contentment**_  settled his own nerves.

 

“Your new chompers aren’t **that**  weird,” Sam murmured against his lips. Peter smiled and trilled softly at that. Sam laughed and kissed him again.

 

“I don't remember you being this noisy with your other dates,” Sam said, _**pleased amused curious**_

 

Peter blushed at that. Sam laughed, bright and teasing _**amused lust(?) affection**_

 

“Yeah, well, I was **trying** to be considerate,” Peter said, frowning through his blush. He tried to give him his best disapproving glare.

 

Sam laughed, wicked. Peter squeaked as he started kissing and sucking at his neck. Sam wrangled him back towards their sleeping bags. Peter went willingly, stroking his fingers through Sam's hair.

 

He could still ‘taste’ traces of his hair gel. It wasn't as disgusting as this morning but he still wanted to scrub him clean. Maybe later...

 

Sam moved his kisses to his collarbone, Peter moaned and Sam pushed him back down onto the ledge, straddling his hips.

 

The weatherproof material of the top sleeping bag was cool and smooth underneath him. His heart sped up as Sam once more kissed his mouth. He gingerly kissed back, parting his lips.

 

Sam ran his tongue along his new fangs, then pressed his tongue inside his mouth. Peter opened his mouth wider and slid his own tongue against Sam's as he explored his mouth.

 

They kissed slowly, hands wandering over each other in lazy exploration. Sam's smell-taste of _**contentment pleasure happiness lust lust(?) affection**_ filled him. Sam chuckled against his mouth.

 

“I'm totally telling Ava you purr like a kitten,” Sam said against his lips and fangs. Peter blinked at him.

 

“I don’ purr,” Peter mumbled, chest rumbling.

 

Sam laughed, _**happy amused affection lust(?)**_ filling Peter's senses.

 

“Maybe ‘m purring,” Peter conceded.

 

Sam rubbed playfully at Peter's stomach. Peter purred louder, then grumbled irritably at the feel and ‘taste’ of Sam's pants.

 

“You're overdressed.”

 

Sam rocked his hips forward, grinding against Peter's abs. Peter hissed, still grumpy about his pants being on. Cautiously he undid Sam's belt. Sam kissed and licked his ear. Peter groaned and popped the button of his fly.

 

Sam sucked at the skin just behind his ear. Peter made a soft little noise and shakily pulled down Sam's zipper. Sam pushed up on his knees and wiggled his pants off his hips. They fell down to his knees, before he freed one leg from them.

 

He yelped then laughed as Peter pounced him. The wiggling just too tempting. He kissed and nipped at Sam's neck, hissing again as his hands came in contact with yet more clothes.

 

Sam moaned ran his hands along Peter's sides. Peter grabbed his boxers by the hem and yanked, tearing them off. Sam growled a protest at the wanton destruction of his clothes.

 

Peter hissed softly and trilled back, taking his shaft in hand and gently stroking him in apology. Sam shuddered under him and grinned. He rested his hands behind his head and watched him through his smirk.

 

Peter leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the head of Sam's cock. Sam hummed and wiggled his hips, cock swaying with the motion.

 

Peter held his hips still, looking at him faux-sternly and scratching at his skin just a bit. Sam shivered and smirked down at him. Peter rolled his eyes and licked the length of his shaft. Sam gasped, eyes darkening. Smirk still in place.

 

He huffed, pretending to be annoyed at Sam's smugness. Then cautiously opened his mouth wide and took his head in, mindful of his fangs. Sam moaned lowly and squirmed under him.

 

Peter could see the thrum of his pulse. Or maybe he was feeling it. His smell-taste of _**pleasure lust excitement**_ spiked over the near constant _**lust(?) affection**_

 

“Fuck yeah,” Sam gasped.

 

Peter flicked his tongue against his head, then teased at the sensitive edge as he slowly, oh so slowly, took him deeper. Spit ran down Sam's shaft, his fangs making it impossible to get a good seal with his lips. Sam did not seem to particularly mind.

 

Peter carefully positioned his new fangs so as to not risk a bite from the actually not that sharp tips. Sam groaned and grabbed at his own hair, the fangs sliding along his cock in a fun, dangerous-but-safe-but-maybe-not sort of way.

 

Peter kept going, teasing his shaft with his tongue as the head of his cock slid deeper.

 

“Gods, yes.”

 

Sam arched his hips, pushing deeper into Peter's nearly-but-not-quite-too-hot mouth. Peter hummed.

 

“Gods damn.”

 

Peter nuzzled his nose against Sam's body, cock deep in his throat. Sam whined and reached down, grabbing Peter by the hair. He pulled him back up, dick shining with spit as Peter followed his pressure.

 

Sam’s hushed whispers of pleasure filled the little cave as he slowly drug Peter's mouth along his dick. Peter hummed and moaned, wiggling his hips even as he wiggled his tongue.

 

Sam’s smell-taste of _**lust pleasure need lust(?)**_  was overpowering. The tantalizing differences between the _**lust**_ and _**lust(?)**_ were **almost** understandable. Then Sam’s slow, cautious movements grew more confident and Peter had to focus on not accidentally nicking Sam with his fangs.

 

“Fuck!” Sam shouted at a sudden, wet, slippery flood of venom into Peter's mouth. Making him so much more **everything**. He shuddered and moaned, fucking his mouth fearlessly now. Peter pulled his hands away from his head, then shifted his grip to hold onto his wrists one handed.

 

“Dammit Webs!” Sam snarled. Peter pinned him by his hips with his other hand and pulled off. Shining, golden venom stringing from Sam's dick to his mouth. Peter swallowed, watching Sam's increasingly frustrated struggles with glowing red eyes.

 

His smell-taste of _**lust need frustration excitement pleasure want**_  belied his loud protests. Peter licked his lips slowly, contemplating this development. Sam had most definitely never acted like this with his other partners.

 

Not the ones on Earth at any rate. He had no idea what crazy stuff he'd gotten up to in space though. Peter ran his tongue along his dripping fangs. Sam glared up at him.

 

Peter grinned. Sam glowered.

 

Then Sam ran his feet along Peter's calves, up his thighs.

 

Peter frowned. Sam smirked.

 

Peter let go of Sam with a yelp as he bent his legs awkwardly to rub his feet against Peter's erection.

 

“Sam!”

 

Sam laughed.

 

“Saaaam! Ew! Stop it!” Peter whined, wiggling backwards. Sam snickered and ‘chased' after him with his foot.

 

“You're such a dork,” Sam said, teasing.

 

“I'm the dork?” Peter said, outraged, “You're the weirdo trying to give me a, a **foot job**!”

 

Sam dropped his legs and cackled, Peter's scandalized tone and expression too much.

 

“Your face,” he wheezed out between laughs.

 

Peter glowered.

 

Sam giggled.

 

“You totally ruined the mood,” Peter said, pouting now. Sam eyed his dick, fully hard with his foreskin pulled tight against the head.

 

“Yeah. Totally killed it. I can tell,” Sam said. Then with a rather toothsome grin, “So how much lube we got? Cause I kinda totally wanna see how flexible you can be when you don't gotta hide it.”

 

Peter blushed and looked away. Sam snorted.

 

“You are embarrassed by the weirdest things, Webs.”

 

Peter looked back up shyly.

 

“I kinda don't like bottoming. It's, uh…” Peter said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “It freaks me out a bit, being pinned…”

 

Sam sat up and snuggled up against him.

 

“This is gonna be give **and** take, but we don't gotta rush.”

 

“He says, mouth still tasting like come,” Peter sassed, then kissed him in a sort of apology.

 

“I'm surprised you can taste it over that supposed stew,” Sam said against his lips, snorting in amusement.

 

Peter hummed and kissed him again, closing his eyes. Sam kissed back, then ran his tongue along Peter's lips and fangs. Peter shivered.

 

Sam stuck his tongue out, pressing it against Peter's lips and licking him. Peter opened his eyes and glared.

 

“Your spider goo is bitter,” Sam explained. Peter huffed, annoyed. Sam kissed him again, then pulled away. He smacked his lips thoughtfully, “and super salty.”

 

Peter hissed and nipped at his neck.

 

“Webs!” Sam yelped, laughing as Peter pinned him and continued his ‘assault’. Kissing and biting along his neck and shoulder, leaving new bruises to go with the ones from their earlier ‘bath’.

 

Sam's laughter slowly turned into breathy moans as Peter made his way down Sam's chest, his stomach, ignoring his hard cock to nip at his thighs. He raised Sam's leg and licked and kissed at the sensitive skin on back of his knee. Very lightly biting the strong tendons just under his skin.

 

Sam moaned lowly, spreading his legs wantonly. Peter watched him through half lidded, glowing eyes.

 

Sam raised his other leg, resting his foot against Peter's chest and pushing at him. Peter stilled, meeting Sam's gaze.

 

“Get the lube, asshole,” Sam said, voice rough.

 

“Get it yourself, jerk face,” Peter said on reflex.

 

Sam glared.

 

Peter feigned innocence.

 

Sam pushed him farther away, or tried to. Peter let him push him, but didn't bother moving his hips. Bending his back as Sam straightened his leg.

 

Sam growled.

 

Peter wiggled, dick bouncing.

 

Sam snorted.

 

“I **would**  do it myself, but **some**  spider didn't bother to tell me where they hid the lube,” he drawled.

 

“Oh, right,” Peter said, before he gave Sam's leg a little pat and hopped over to their stuff.

 

Sam turned onto his side to watch him move in the dimly lit cavern.

 

Peter came back with a bottle of lube and Sam raised his eyebrow at him.

 

“Really? Some spider sure was hopeful,” Sam said, clearly amused.

 

Peter blushed and ducked his head, excuse on his lips before he frowned and glared back, “Look who's talking, Sunshine.”

 

Sam laughed again, taking the bottle from him and setting it within easy reach, then laying back down.

 

“Yeah, yeah. You got me there Webhead,” Sam said with a smile. He wrapped one leg around Peter’s waist, and raised the other back up. He pressed his calf against Peter’s mouth, demanding, “I believe were somewhere around here?”

 

Peter blew a raspberry against his leg in retaliation, before nipping and kissing his way to his ankle. Sam giggled and moaned.

 

“You best not be gonna ticklin’ me Webs,” Sam threatened. Peter wiggled his rather sharply taloned fingers at him then caressed his muscled calf gently.

 

“I don’t want chop suey Nova so,” Peter said, trailing his fingers closer to his foot. Sam relaxed, Peter pounced, “hah! Sneak attack!”

 

He held onto Sam's ankle, blowing more raspberries against the sole of his foot. Sam squealed and laughed.

 

“Youhuehue, you menahahaha, menace!” Sam tried to kick playfully at him with his free foot. Peter pounced on the new ‘target’ and gave it the same treatment. Sam dissolved into helpless giggles.

 

“The most menacey menace in all of New York,” Peter kissed his way up Sam's calf, “Oh, Sunshine, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

 

“Nothin’ I can't handle,” Sam smiled back, spreading his other leg wide. Peter ran his hands down Sam's thigh, pushing his leg up and resting his palm on his ass. He brought his other hand up, spreading Sam's cheeks.

 

Sam was gaping and ready, he wouldn't need that much prep. Really. Peter licked his lips, the occasional drip from his fangs sped up to a trickle at the thought of rimming Sam until he was begging for him. Then his brain caught up to his lust as his eyes focused on his pale hands and sharp talons pressing against Sam's darker skin.

 

His venom was running down his chin, his throat. The tiniest of cuts on Sam's skin would be at best a really painful few hours while Peter tried to reach SHIELD to summon an emergency evac. At worst…

 

“I can't prep you,” Peter declared. Sam stretched lazily, pulling Peter down with his legs.

 

“What a shame. Whatever are we going to do?” Sam said, wicked and teasing as he guided Peter onto his side. Peter moved with him, running his tongue across his fangs in betrayal. Sam kissed his nose.

 

Peter looked at him, eyes crossing.

 

“Didn't I tell you I got this?” Sam murmured, running his hands down Peter's sides. He turned his hips just so, and teased his fingers along the cleft of Peter's pert ass.

 

Peter shivered.

 

Sam grabbed the lube and rose to his knees.

 

Peter froze.

 

“Don't pin me,” he said, curling in on himself.

 

Sam dropped the lube and cuddled up with Peter, tucking Peter's head under his chin. Peter trembled.

 

“Hey, Webs, it's just me,” Sam murmured soothingly. Peter pressed his palms flat against Sam's chest, Sam went on, “Just me, just Sam. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, “Sam,” he twined his legs with Sam's and rested the soles of his feet against him.

 

“Yeah Webs. It's just me,” Sam rubbed his back.

 

Peter clung to him, taking deep, even breaths.

 

“I can't pin you now even if I wanted to.”

 

Peter pressed his lips to Sam's throat.

 

“You're so strong, Webs.”

 

Peter opened his mouth, resting the tips of his fangs against Sam's steady pulse. He **was**  strong. Maybe that was why his fangs were surprisingly dull? Actual spider fangs were sharp like hypodermic needles.

 

_**trust concern affection** _

 

Peter leaned his head back, watching his thick venom run down Sam's neck.

 

He flipped onto his hands and knees and raised his butt in the air, “Okay! I'm ready!”

 

He stared resolutely at his hands braced on the wall of the sleeping nook. Sam sighed and grabbed his hips, pulling him back down on his side.

 

“Yeah, no. Don't be an idiot. I'm not staring at the back of your head while you pretend this ain't happening,” Sam said, giving his hips a squeeze. Peter frowned.

 

“You said you were gonna make me regret it,” Peter said, worrying at his bottom lip with his fangs. Sam looked over at him and cupped his cheeks.

 

“Heat of the moment shit talking,” he said roughly, then quieter, tenderly, “I'll never do anything you don't ask for.”

 

Peter closed his eyes and rested his head into Sam's hands. Strong, calloused hands. 

 

“Okay,” Peter said, voice soft, “I'm really ready this time. I trust you.”

 

He looked up at Sam, trying to let his trust shine through.

 

**Something**  must have shown. Because Sam kissed the ever living daylights out of him.

 

When Sam pulled away he sighed and rested his head on his arm. Relaxed. He lazily watched Sam roll over, searching for the hastily dropped bottle of lube. He'd lost his full erection at some point and wasn't even half hard now. The cuddling had soothed Peter's own panic boner.

 

The kissing had gotten him half hard again. Peter reached out to caress Sam's muscled back, rubbing him and savoring his _**anticipation affection excitement**_

 

Sam flashed him an encouraging smile before turning back to search the twisted up sleeping bags. Peter reached out with his foot, tapping the bottle with the talon of his big toe.

 

Sam reached over and rubbed his ankle before grabbing it. Peter hummed and stretched that leg out, petting Sam's chest with his foot. Then he brought it up to his own chest. Sam smiled and shook his head at how awkward that looked.

 

Peter tensed as Sam rolled over, squirming around so that they were almost in a sixty nine. Sam resting his upper body across Peter's other leg. He rubbed at Peter's firm ass cheeks and kissed along the dip in his back until he once again relaxed.

 

Peter hesitantly reached out and rubbed Sam's leg. His ‘scent’ was comforting under his hands. He shuddered as Sam trailed his kisses lower. Sam's tongue was warm, wet along his skin.

 

Sam spread his cheeks tongue slowly licking between them. Peter tensed again, then reminded himself, _It's just Sam,_ and exhaled his tension in a quiet breath.

 

He hissed and wiggled as Sam’s warm tongue twirled around the sensitive skin of his hole. Sam chuckled and did it again. Peter wiggled again.

 

“Tickles,” Peter protested.

 

Sam pressed his tongue more firmly against his sensitive, puckered skin.

 

“Better?” Sam asked, breath puffing across his skin.

 

“Y-yeah,” Peter settled down, shuddering under Sam's gentle kisses and firm licks. He sighed and rubbed Sam's legs, relaxing further. Sam wasn't looming over him, and his weight on his leg was more comforting than nerve wracking

 

Sam slowly teased his tongue inside him. Peter moaned and pressed back into him. Sam took his cue and pressed his tongue in deeper. Then curled it up and pulled it out. Peter hissed in pleasure at that, sharp claws scratching Sam's calf.

 

Sam moaned and thrust his tongue back inside his ass. Settling in for a thorough tongue fucking. Peter wiggled and writhed under him.

 

He was so lost in the haze of pleasure that Sam's lubed finger joining his tongue came as a complete surprise.

 

“Fuck!” Peter gasped, freezing up.

 

“So you **can** cuss,” Sam said, voice low and wicked.

 

Peter whined and pushed back against his hand, trying to get him to move. Sam obliged, curling his finger and seeking out his prostate.

 

“Yes! Fuck me!” Peter moaned as Sam found his sweet spot. His fangs released a stream of venom, running down the side of his face, making a sticky mess on the sleeping bag.

 

“Ah, there it is,” Sam purred, stroking at that little pleasure inducing spot.

 

“Fuck me!” Peter demanded, voice shaking.

 

“Mmm, soon enough Pete,” Sam said, kissing his firm cheek and slipping a second, lube slick finger inside him.

 

“Sam! Sam, fuck me!” Peter said, voice cracking. Peter rocked his hips, trying to get Sam to give him more. He smeared his golden venom across his face and hair in his writhing.

 

Sam scissored his fingers as he pulled them out and curled them against his prostate as he pressed them back in. Peter moaned and shuddered. Sam watched Peter fuck his fingers with hungry eyes.

 

“This is gonna be cold, sorry Pete,” Sam said, kissing his hot skin as he squirted lube inside him. Peter hissed at the sensation.

 

“Fuck! Sam!” Peter said, golden venom gilding his chin and neck.

 

Sam worked the lube in then rolled over onto his back, slicking up his cock.

 

Peter knelt and raised his ass, wiggling just a bit. Sam chuckled.

 

“Maybe next time,” Sam said, idly stroking his own dick.

 

Peter whined and shook his ass.

 

“Get over here you horny spider,” Sam said, laughing lightly.

 

Peter pounced.

 

“Oh fuck,” Sam gasped at the shock of Peter's tight, hot ass enveloping his cock.

 

“Fuck yes! God Sam you feel so good,” Peter moaned. Sam grabbed onto his hips.

 

“Godsdamn give a guy some warning Webs!” Sam said, voice shaking as Peter stretched above him.

 

In the warm light of the cave Peter looked nearly ethereal. Where his venom coated his skin he appeared to glow gold. His teeth and still leaking fangs reflected the soft light like pearls. His sticky, mussed up hair seemed to shine like copper.

 

Peter leaned over and rested his legs along Sam’s chest, gripping his hips with his hands. He sighed at the feeling of Sam's cock stretching him. Then grinned teasingly down at Sam.

 

“Mmm, nope. How’s this for spider flexibility?” Peter asked, rolling his hips.

 

Sam groaned wordlessly, grip tightening on Peter’s hips.

 

“What was that, Buckethead?” Peter leaned over to nip at his chest. His leaking cock getting trapped between them.

 

“Fuck!” Sam said in amazement. Peter's stretching shifting their angle. Peter was wet, hot and deep. Deep and tight and so, so good.

 

Peter hummed then nipped him again. Sam whined and shivered.

 

“I thought I told you to fuck me,” Peter said, grinding his ass down. Sam groaned  wordlessly.

 

“Mmm, come again?” Peter met Sam's poleaxed gaze and grinned toothily at his double entendre.  

 

Shaking, Sam shifted his grip and started thrusting. Peter groaned, still rolling his hips smoothly despite his extremely awkward position.

 

“I guess bottoming” nip, bite, Sam's hushed ‘fuck me, Webs, gods yes’, kiss, nibble, “isn't **entirely** terrible.”

 

Peter clenched his muscles around Sam's cock. Sam thrust up into him and held still as Peter worked his dick with his ass.

 

“Fuck yeah, that's the spirit,” Sam agreed, grinning up at him. Peter snorted at that and changed positions. Stretching up to get a grip on the low ceiling and moving one leg to rest alongside Sam's legs.

 

Peter gave his hips a few slow, testing thrusts. Sam groaned under him. Peter settled back into a smooth, rolling rhythm. Sam arched into him, trying to sync up with his motions.

 

“Gods, Webs, you're so amazing,” Sam gasped out between little noises of pleasure. Peter smiled and trilled quietly at that.

 

After a few moments to savor the nice feelings Sam's praise brought, as well as the nice feeling of being full, Peter grinned and teased, “Yeah, I **am**  pretty spectacular.”

 

Sam’s snark was cut short as Peter yet again changed positions. He wrapped his legs around Sam's waist and arched backwards, grabbing onto Sam's ankles. His hard dick, swayed with Sam's thrusts. Leaking precum, shining golden with smeared venom. Venom from his fangs that leaked when Sam's cock hit that oh so sweet spot inside him.

 

“What was that, Buckethead?”

 

“Fuck, you’re unbelievable,” Sam said through grit teeth. Peter laughed. Sam let out a strangled noise.

 

Peter sat up and splayed out his legs, looking at Sam’s face. His ‘taste’ under his hands was _**good good good lust need excitement lust(?) affection**_ but still he asked,  “Good?”

 

Sam nodded, whining out an affirmative and thrusting up into him. Peter chuckled and rubbed at his chest. Then trailed his fingers over to Sam's hard nipples, talons catching on his black hair. He traced nothing patterns on dark, flushed skin with sharp talon tips. Rubbed at his hard nipples with the soft tips of his fingers.

 

Sam moaned at the teasing, thrusting harder into Peter's tight heat. Almost too hot, lube slick, and tight then tighter then damn near too tight, relief, then tight again as Peter worked his dick with his inner muscles.

 

“You keep doin stuff like that ‘n I'm not gonna last much longer,” Sam grunted between thrusts, biting at his lip to hang on.

 

“Hmmm, I can live with that,” Peter purred, he could feel how close Sam was. Sam’s strained groan and quiet noises again struck Peter as strange as he rolled his nipples between his fingers.

 

Sam grinned up at him, picking up his pace. Peter grinned back.

 

“Yeah, Sam, that's it,” Peter encouraged, voice low. At the sweet sound of his name from Peter's lips he cried out, hips jerking, cock pulsing.

 

“Peter!” Sam sobbed, Peter ground down into Sam. Driving his dick deep as he filled his ass with hot jizz. Peter watched Sam’s face intently, searing it in his mind. His eyes were shut tight, mouth open, throat working but no more sounds escaping. Peter leaned forward, kissing his pulse racing under his skin, then scraping his teeth and fangs across it.

 

“Sam, you feel so good. God Sam, fuck yeah, fill me up,” Peter moaned. At that Sam’s voice seemed to kick back in and he cried out as the last few pulses of his orgasm rocked through him, then went boneless beneath Peter. Gasping for breath, sweaty, flushed, shaking.

 

Peter again kissed his throat, then sat upright. Leaning back with his hands resting on Sam's thighs, legs spread open with his feet against Sam's ribs. Peter trilled in contentment, rocking his hips lazily. Sam twitched and attempted to protest.

 

Peter continued his lazy rocking, until Sam finally opened his eyes. Peter smirked down at him. Sam did not have the energy to articulate his great concern at that smirk. Peter could ‘taste’ it through the _**good good good good lust(?) affection**_ though.

 

“So,” Peter began, rolled his hips and making his cock sway and bounce. Sam mewled pitifully, eyes crossing. Peter’s smirk grew, “I was just gonna jerk it. But then I thought,” another roll of his hips, another weak cry from Sam, “I don’t need to worry about secret” a rippling clench of his ass around Sam’s softening cock, Sam’s legs kicked, he sobbed out very nearly whole words, before his eyes rolled up and he closed his eyes. Peter leaned forward and poked his nose, “identities?”

 

“Wuh,” Sam said, opening his eyes and glaring, rather pathetically, at Peter’s finger.

 

“Pay attention! I’m talkin’ here,” Peter said, affecting his best stereotypical New Yorker impression. As a native New Yorker, it was a pretty good one.

 

Sam’s glare strengthened.

 

Peter grinned toothily.

 

“So, as I was sayin’, I get to be crazy super flexible ‘cause you already know I’m the ultimate Spider-Man!” Peter declared.

 

Sam made exhausted and annoyed noises that could generously be interpreted as ‘you are totally the amazingly spectacular hero way cooler than any other known as the ultimate spider-man, go spidey’. At least that was what Peter interpreted it as, it was really closer to ‘no fucking shit Webs get on with it’ but, well. A spider can dream.

 

“Did you know I can do this?” Peter asked, voice bright. Right before he bent down and took his own cock in his mouth.

 

Sam’s smell-taste of _**good good good contentment lust(?)**_  was spiced now with _**surprise lust**_

 

Peter hummed around his own dick, pressing his feet against Sam's hips. He had yet to pull off of Sam, the feeling of fullness from his softening cock was nice. Not to mention the delightful, very wet sensations from wiggling around with his ass filled full of come. That was a new one, he could definitely get used to bottoming with Sam if they barebacked it every time.

 

Sam was too exhausted, and now distracted to attempt to free his sensitive cock. Peter's enthusiastic sucking was the best kind of ‘torture'. Sam couldn't look away, not, admittedly that he particularly wanted to.

 

After a few minutes, Peter looked up and pulled off far enough to say, “The fangs are kinda weird. Were they too weird for you?”

 

“Nah, Webs, they’re good,” Sam said, voice strained. Peter’s cock glistened with his spit and venom. In the low light the precome gathering at the tip glittered.

 

“Oh, good,” Peter said, smiling. He took his own cock into his mouth again, then pressed on until his entire length was down his own throat.

 

“Fuck,” Sam whispered, watching him with wide eyes. Peter wiggled and hummed at that. Sam groaned and shuddered.

 

“You tryin ta kill me, Webs? Gods,” Sam moaned. Peter made a little ‘maybe' sort of sound around his cock and wiggled again. Again Sam shuddered under him and swore softly.

 

Peter continued to messily deep throat his own dick. The only sounds in the cave for a time were the wet noises of his own cock in his mouth and Sam’s whispered curses.

 

Then Peter shuddered, his own come leaking out the corners of his mouth. He pulled his head back, the next shot splattering across his face. His cock no longer in his mouth, his groans as he came escaped his throat.

 

“Gods,” Sam moaned, eyes locked onto Peter. Watching him orgasm hungrily. Peter rocked forward, dropping onto his knees, pinning Sam under him. Thick, white come spilling over Sam's chest, throat and face.

  
Peter leaned down, kissing Sam. Swiping his tongue across Sam's salty lips. Sam kissed him back, licking up Peter's come from the edges of his mouth. Peter opened his eyes and met Sam's gaze. Hesitantly, Peter kissed him again. Sam raised his hand up to run his fingers through Peter's hair. He laughed softly as heavy, rumbling purrs filled the cave. Peter settled down, snuggling on top of Sam.

 

*** 

 

_To Be Continued..._


	6. Rejuvenation

Sam gave Peter a weak push, and pulled away to mumble, “Bath time not sleep time.”

 

Peter hissed and nipped at his lower lip. Sam moaned, then glared. Peter buried his head into the crook of Sam’s neck, smearing them both with his come.

 

“Dude,” Sam said, exasperated. Though his smell-taste under Peter’s palms, beneath the nearly overpowering _**mine mine mine good good good**_  was _**affection**_

 

“Mmnn,” Peter tried to say. Sam slapped his ass. He yelped and sat up, planting it firmly on Sam’s abs with a squish.

 

“Augh, Peter! Gross!”

 

“Your fault,” Peter said lazily.

 

“No way, it was totally your fault. With your little noises and your bendy-ness and your,” Sam slapped his ass again.

 

Peter stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. Sam rolled his eyes, then stared at the low ceiling.

 

“I'm not cleaning that up,” he declared. Peter looked up, he had not been all that careful changing positions earlier. A ropey splatter of thick semen was stubbornly clinging to the ceiling.

 

“Heh, whoops?” Peter said, shrugging sheepishly. Sam pushed at his hips, the easiest spot in reach.

 

“Clean it up, Webhead,” Sam said, pushing at him insistently. Peter reached up and wiped it off, then stared at his fingers faux-thoughtfully. Under him Sam tried to squirm away, “Webs…”

 

Peter pretended to let him. He wiggled upright, sitting against the wall near the edge, watching Peter warily. Which was really funny, at least to Peter. He was already covered in jizz, and a bit of venom down his chest, and lube mixed with his own jizz now on his abs.

 

“I’m gonna get ya,” Peter declared, grinning. True, he _**could**_  pounce him right now, but they did, at some point, have to sleep on these sleeping bags. No need to make them messier than they already were.

 

Sam rolled off the ledge and bolted towards the only exit. Peter watched him run away appreciatively, then pounced the ceiling above him and swiped his hand through his hair.

 

“Webs you’re fucking gross!” Sam shouted, ducking away and into the tunnel.

 

“I know you are but what am I?” Peter sing songed back. He snagged a flashlight on his way out. Stalking after Sam, he stayed on the ceiling of the tunnel.

 

“A fucking dick,” Sam called back. Peter pounced the wall next to him, theatrically loud. Sam shrieked and flailed at him.

 

At where he had been, Peter laughed from his new spot. Sam cursed and stomped stubbornly through the tunnel.

 

“I didn't hear any complaining when you were fucking this fucking dick,” Peter taunted.

 

“Okay, first of all Webs, **you**  were fucking **this**  dick,” Sam said, pointing at where he thought Peter was then thrusting his hips as he pointed at his rather messy, now soft cock.

 

“Eh, potayto, potahto,” Peter said with an unseen shrug.

 

“And second of all,” Sam continued. Peter landed loudly next to him again, then darted over to his other side. He nearly brained himself on Sam’s outstretched fist, if his Spidey-Sense hadn't helped. Peter hissed and sulked from the floor just behind Sam.

 

“This dick is fucking **tired** , so carry me,” Sam demanded, crossing his arms. He scrunched up his nose and pulled his arms away from his sticky chest slowly.

 

“Ugh, do I gotta,” Peter whined.

 

“Gross. And yes,” Sam said, flopping down. He nearly landed on top of Peter.

 

“Ugh, _**f** **ine**_ ,” Peter said, catching him before he landed.

 

Sam made a pleased sound at that. Peter gave him a quick peck on the lips.

 

“Hold on tight!” Peter said, grin practically audible.

 

“Wait! What?” Sam said, just before Peter leapt up to the ceiling and ‘ran' towards the main cavern.

 

“Shit you're fast,” Sam said, clinging tight.

 

“Why is everyone always so surprised by this? Proportional speed of a spider, hellloooo,” Peter said, before jumping from the upper tunnel ceiling, flipping mid air and landing upside down on the ceiling of the tunnel below.

 

“Why do you keep trying to get me gee sick? You know it's never gonna happen, Webhead,” Sam said with disdain. A quick touch yielded much more satisfying emotions of _**excitement readiness affection**_

 

“No way, you totally barfed on the tilt-a-whirl that one time!”

 

“That was you, dumbass,” Sam said.

 

“Oh. Heheh, yeah,” Peter said, before dropping Sam into the smaller, sandy bottomed bath.

 

Sam landed with a truly impressive splash. Peter hissed as the hot water splashed up on him. He hopped over to the corner and turned on the flashlight, trying to find the best angle.

 

At Sam’s continued silence he called out, “Very funny, Buckethead. I know you're fine, cut it out.”

 

He fiddled a bit longer before sticking the light to the wall with a thwip of webbing. Still nothing from the bath. It was really shallow… but nah, Sam was fine. His spidey-sense wouldn't let him hurt someone.

 

“Sparky, come on. I'm tired, let's clean up and have a nap,” Peter said, hopping over to the edge of the pool to peer in.

 

Sam was floating on the bottom, face down.  Peter cast a shadow over him in the light of the flashlight.

 

“Sam?” Peter said, worry creeping into his voice.

 

His Spidey sense went off while he was already hissing from the hot water splashing all around him. Sam was laughing and pulling at him, trying to knock him into the pool. Peter unstuck himself with a grumble and let Sam drag him in.

 

“That wasn't funny, Sparky,” Peter said as he resurfaced.

 

Sam’s giggling said otherwise.

 

Peter picked up handfuls of sand and started scrubbing Sam clean. Sam’s giggles settled down at the attention.

 

Under his hands, besides the quartzy-limestoney ‘taste’ of the sand, under the nearly overwhelming _**mine mine mine**_  ‘smell' of his semen on his skin, Sam's _**amusement affection lust(?)**_  lurked.

 

He tried to focus on that emotion he couldn't quite place, but having to scrub Sam clean was too distracting.

 

“Stop it,” Sam said, flicking his nose.

 

“Huh?” Peter blinked and looked down at his face.

 

“You're thinking way too hard about something,” Sam said, lazily sinking into the water and rinsing his body off.

 

Peter frowned and scrubbed at Sam's hair, trying his best to get the remains of his hair gel washed out.

 

“You don't think hard enough,” Peter said, gentling his scrubbing at the sudden ‘taste' of _**annoyance pain**_ under his palms, “and I'm not **thinking**.”

 

“I think plenty. Don't change the subject, you are. I can tell,” Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Peter's hands, “you scrunch up your nose and wrinkle your eyebrows. You look like a nerd.”

 

“I do not!” Peter snapped, but under his hands, around the ‘taste’ of sand was, beneath the now fading **_mine mine good good_**  was _**affection play (not)lust**_

 

“And anyways you like it when I'm nerdy,” Peter said, gloating.

 

“As if,” Sam snorted _**deception affection**_

 

“You dooooo,” Peter sang, delighted he could catch Sam in a lie.

 

_**exasperation** _

 

“You liiiiike meeeee,” Peter teased, pouring water over Sam's head to rinse the sand off with no warning.

 

“No. Really? What gave me away?” Sam said, not caught off guard by the sudden ‘downpour’.

 

“Was it the putting up with your amazing ramen dinners?” Sam said sarcastically, tilting his head to look up at Peter, “Or, oh, maybe it was me not punching you when you totally deserved it for trying to turn me into a rabbit that one time?”

 

“Hey! The important thing is that I didn't actually turn you into a rabbit!”

 

“Uh, huh. Sure. Only because you couldn't find a spell your magicless ass could use,” Sam said, sneakily reaching up to tickle the back of Peter's knee.

 

Peter shrieked and collapsed into a splash of giggles. Sam dodged out of the way with a laugh.

 

Peter resurfaced, sputtering. He glared.

 

Sam held his his handfuls of sand out in surrender, grinning his ‘sorry not sorry’ grin. Peter hissed but didn't splash him again, or swim away. Sam scrubbed at his hair, then wiped off his face.

 

Peter dunked his head under and came back up. Blinking away water and scrubbing at his own chest. Sam moved his attentions to his back.

 

“I dunno, maybe it was when you shoved your dick in my ass,” Peter said lazily, finished with his front and content to let Sam wash his back. Sam snorted and kissed the back of Peter's neck.

 

“I was thinking you might have had some kind of idea when I jerked you off,” Sam teased.

 

“Mmm, nah, could have been totally normal mutual stress relief,” Peter explained.

 

“Yeah, **totally normal**. My bad. What **was**  I **thinking**?” Sam chuckled, kissing his shoulder and playing along.

 

“You weren't. It's okay I still luh-like you,” Peter said, nearly slipping in his contentment.

 

“You didn't get, just a **hint** , that I **kinda sorta** like you lots when I took your cock in my mouth and drank down your dude goo?” Sam teased. Peter stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose at Sam's lovely ‘dude goo’ description.

 

“Overpowering thirst,” Peter smiled, pretending to explain.

 

“Ah, well. You got me there. I **was**  fucking thirsty,” Sam purred, kissing the curve of Peter's spine where his back was above the water.

 

“Mmm-hmmm,” Peter agreed.

 

“But **I**  seem to remember **you**  shoving **your ass**  on **my dick** ,” Sam said, holding onto Peter's hips one handed and moving his other lower.

 

“Is that what happened?” Peter said, tensing up as Sam teased at his entrance. Sam kissed his back again.

 

“Something like that,” Sam said, pushing two fingers inside his still slick, come filled ass. Peter made a tiny noise of surprised pleasure as Sam unerringly found his prostate.

 

Sam kissed his back and neck while he fingered him. Peter's quiet little sounds and the gentle splash of water filled the cave.

 

“What exactly is the proportional refractory period of a spider, anyways?” Sam murmured wickedly.

 

Peter moaned and turned to kiss him. Sam laughed softly as they kissed.

 

“What was that? About eight minutes?” Sam murmured against his lips.

 

“I’m not ready yet. Just like kissin’ you,” Peter mumbled. Sam slid his hand from Peter's lean hip  to his half hard cock, the fingers of his other hand still busy inside of him.

 

“Uh. **Huh** ,” Sam said with exaggerated disbelief.

 

Peter whined and wiggled. Nipping at Sam’s bottom lip even as he pushed back against strong fingers.

 

“Eight minutes,” Sam declared, giving Peter's dick a gentle squeeze before moving his hand upwards. Tracing nonsense patterns along Peter's unshaven happy trail.

 

“Sam,” Peter whined again. Sam slowed his fingers inside him, more teasing than fulfilling.

 

“Mmmm, I thought we had a very strict no whining policy in place, Webs,” Sam said, running his tongue across Peter's lips and fangs, then kissing him lazily.

 

“Oh-only in the ah!” pant, “Apartment! Wuh-which we arennnnngh,” gasp, “aren't in!”

 

“No way. I'm calling bullshit. You totally pitch a fit every time I even sort of whine when we’re out!” Sam nipped Peter back. Though his fangs made it difficult to catch his lip, he had to make do with a nip to Peter's nose.

 

“Saaaammmmm!” Peter whined. Louder.

 

“Wwwwweeeeebssss,” Sam taunted, smirking.

 

“Touch me!”

 

Sam tickled his belly button.

 

Peter giggled then hissed. Water splashed with his giggles.

 

“Not like that!” Peter complained. Though it lacked force through his panting laughter and wiggling.

 

“Oh? More like this?” Sam asked facetiously, tweaking one of Peter's hard nipples.

 

Peter yelped and rumbled a grumpy growl. He splashed water at Sam in retaliation. Sam was unmoved.

 

“This,” Peter panted, attempting to glare, “is cruel **and**  unusual.”

 

“Mmmmmm, yup,” Sam agreed, pulling Peter in for a watery snuggle while he fingered him.

 

“It's downright uh-unnnn! Uh!” Peter moaned.

 

“Uh, un, uh, unconstitutional?” Sam said, playfully mocking.

 

“Yes! Yesssss.”

 

“Mmm yup, sure is,” he drawled.

 

“I'm gonna,” a low groan escaped Peter. Sam sped up his fingers, firmly stroking his prostate once again. Peter moaned, venom starting to leak from his fangs.

 

“You're gonna what, Webs? Squirt your spider goo all over me?”

 

“Yeh, yeah-no! No! I won't! I won't hurt you!”

 

Sam kissed him deeply. Peter kissed back.

 

Sam smiled as Peter broke away to moan.

 

“I could get used to all these sexy noises,” Sam said, smug.

 

Peter moaned again, glowing eyes half-lidded and wandering over Sam's face. Peter smiled back at him.

 

“Live it up now,” Peter said through his panting, “I'm not gonna be the rude neighbor keep!” Peter arched into Sam, splashing water out of the pool, “keeping,” a shudder, “everyone up!”

 

“I guess I'll have to be loud enough for both of us then!” Sam said, bright and cheerful.

 

Peter groaned, trying for annoyed but landing on pleasured.

 

“Don't,” a moaned inhalation, “don't be **rude** ,” Peter said, blushing.

 

Sam snickered, pressing gently, insistently at his prostate.

 

“Like you aren't rude!” Sam said, nuzzling against his neck.

 

“I’m gonna tell,” Peter mumbled. Sam snorted and nuzzled noses with him.

 

“Oh no, I’m soooo scared. Who you gonna tell, Pete?” Sam taunted.

 

“I’m gonna tell your boss,” he said, doing his best to look serious. The doofy smile and blissed out gaze spoiled it.

 

“Have I got some bad news for you,” Sam said, kissing him again.

 

“Oh… oh yeah?” Peter moaned after their lips parted.

 

“Mmmm yeah. Just your luck,” another tender kiss, “I'm kinda banging the boss. So,” a gentle nip, “don't think he's gonna be much help, sorry,” Sam said, sounding anything but.

 

“Sounds,” a hushed gasp, “Sounds like he’s a,” a low moan, “a real menace. Oh fuck!”

 

“Mmm, yeah. A sweet nerd like you don't stand a chance against him,” Sam teased.

 

Peter's attempts at banter degenerated into gasps and groans. Sam massaged his prostate gently, watching Peter with dark eyes.

 

Peter pulled him in for a hungry kiss. The sounds of their lips meeting and rippling water the only noises.

 

Peter shuddered and groaned, reaching for his cock. Sam grabbed his hand, Peter hissed.

 

“Naughty spider, I was gonna suck your dick again. But now,” Sam pulled his fingers from Peter's ass and cleaned them against the sandy bottom. Peter made a strangled noise of disbelief.

 

“Now... I guess you know what you want better than I do,” Sam said with a lazy drawl. He stood up and waded over to the soaking pool. Peter gaped at him.

 

“I want more of you!” Peter blurted.

 

Sam pushed up onto the ledge, tossing Peter a smug, almost but not quite coy smile.

 

Peter pounced, hands slamming down alongside Sam's, biting the back of his neck. Sam's quiet gasp felt like a scream. Peter angled his hips such that his hard, hot cock was between Sam's firm cheeks.

 

Sam laughed softly and turned his head to nip at Peter's arm.

 

“That's not gonna work, Webs,” Sam said as Peter started grinding.

 

Peter grumbled against his neck and continued doggedly on.

 

“I think you cracked the ledge again,” Sam said, looking at the cracks under their hands. Peter's venom sticking to his back and running down his neck.

 

Peter growled, flexing his fingers and leaving little gouges in the solid rock with his talons.

 

“You know if you break this and ruin the soak pool I'm gonna be so pissed,” Sam said. Peter hissed.

 

Sam made a soft noise of surprise as the venom running down his back unintentionally helped Peter's efforts. Peter moaned at the slick sensation,

 

Sam looked down again at their hands on the stone.

 

“I can't believe you're still wearing your webshooters. You're a fucking dork,” he said, voice a bit strained.

 

Peter grabbed his shoulder, a bit careless with his sharp talons _**excitement lust**_  flashed and Sam shivered.

 

“You like it rough like that?” Peter asked, slowing his quick rutting into lazy humps.

 

Sam said nothing, flush running down the back of his neck. But he was **_guilty embarrassed agreeing_**

 

Peter stilled his hips and cuddled against Sam's back. Under his palm Sam ‘tasted' of _**nervousness affection (not)lust worry**_

 

“It's okay. I, uh, I just can really hurt you bad if I don't watch out you know,” Peter nuzzled at the back of Sam's neck, kissing him, “I don't want to **really**  hurt you, Sunshine.”

 

Sam relaxed at that.

 

“You're not going to break **me**  you dumbass,” Sam said, _**confident trusting annoyed affection**_

 

Peter made a noise at that.

 

Sam pushed up from the ledge, Peter still clinging to him, and fell backwards into the scrubbing pool.

 

Peter hissed and growled and leapt onto the wall. Sam laughed and splashed at him. Peter rubbed water out of his eyes and glared.

 

“How can you stand that hot water?” he said, frowning and shaking out his hair.

 

“This water is perfect, how can you not?” Sam said, rubbing his wet back against the wall to scrub off Peter's sticky venom. Sam yawned wide then shook his head, “Woah, sorry. Guess I'm more wiped than,” another yawn, “I thought.”

 

“It's okay, let's dry off and pass out. I'm pretty beat, too.”

 

Sam yawned again, making a tiny noise of protest through the yawn.

 

“You're gonna pass out in the bath, get out before I get you out,” Peter said with a stern frown.

 

Sam huffed and splashed at Peter. He did start making his way out of the shallow hot spring, but bent over just before climbing out.

 

Peter admired the curve of Sam's ass for a moment, then shook his head, “Stop distracting me, we're going to bed, chop chop!”

 

Sam stood up and showed Peter his now rather waterlogged cellphone. Peter looked at it sadly.

 

“We probably shouldn't leave this in the water, just saying,” Sam said, waving the dark phone around.

 

Peter hopped over to the edge of the pool, landing facing Sam. Sam climbed out of the pool, then stared at the webbed flashlight in consternation.

 

“Webs, isn't that a scone over there? Why'd you web up the flashlight, dork?”

 

Peter looked at the wall where Sam was pointing.

 

Sam looked at Peter, waiting.

 

“It's called a sconce,” Peter finally settled on.

 

“Scone, sconce, whatever. You're still a dork,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. He pulled down the flashlight and moved it to the wall sconce.

 

Peter shook himself dry, shaking water all about.

 

“Webs! You ass!” Sam yelped, startled. Peter grinned, standing up and stretching out.

 

Sam wiped as much water off of himself as he could. Doing his best to look offended. Sadly the yawn spoiled it.

 

Peter leapt up to the ceiling and reached down to pet at Sam's hair. Much better, no more _**yuck bitter gel**_  now _**good good sam**_  and faintly still _**mine**_

 

Not to mention Sam was not nearly as annoyed as he looked.

 

Sam yawned again.

 

He **was**  really tired though.

 

Sam pushed Peter's phone at him and moved over to his torn shirts.

 

“We can recover the data back home,” Sam explained.

 

They were still damp from this morning. He shook them out and wrung them, then dried off as best he could.

 

“I think they'll dry better in the main cave,” Peter said, voice soft. Sam wrung them out again and shrugged, then stifled yet another yawn.

 

“Whatever,” the yawn escaped, “Ah man. Whatever you say, Webs, just,” another yawn, Sam looked up at Peter and fished with a gruff, “carry me?”

 

He was snuggled against Peter's warm, naked chest before he could blink. He was out before Peter reached the main cave.

 

“Come on, Star Prince. Let's get our beauty sleep.”

 

_To Be Continued…_


	7. Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> Implied rape of a minor

Peter had made a bit more of a mess with his new fangs than he had realized. Thankfully, it was all contained to the easily cleaned, weatherproof, outside facing fabric of the top sleeping bag. Less thankfully Sam was already passed out and resting on him.

 

He was not called the Ultimate Spider-Man for nothing! Though usually it was more for his supervillain multitasking and less for boyfriend and dirty sheet multitasking.

 

Peter wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with Sam and sleep. But he **had**  said that he'd dry his shirts. And he was feeling a bit restless. And guilty.

 

In addition to the weirdly stocked with edible food pantry (and larder! With his own ripped shirts. Why must his spider self hate shirts? Shirts were good, dang it!) there was also a room that would do for drying their clothes in. There was a steady breeze from what looked like a vent, and low humidity, and a well made rope of  **_plant hemp not food yuck_ **

 

Dropping his hand, he sighed. He really hoped this sense was some temporary enhancement caused by the weird mystical properties of this cave. He  **so**  was not looking forward to ‘tasting’ New York.

 

A more thorough search of the main cavern yielded his still wet hiking boots and pants. The pants had mostly dried in the pile they had landed in. His boots were slightly less soaked but really not yet wearable. He shivered as the blowing wind outside seemed to howl like a slavering pack of ice wolves.

 

The main cavern _**was**_  chilly, but bearable. The nest, no the _**sleeping cave**_  was much more comfortable. It had to be or Sam would surely be awake and yelling at him about how ‘das’t cold it was, webs, get your axt in here and keep me warm’ by now. 

 

**_mate want snuggles_ **

 

“ **Sam**  wants dry shirts, stupid instincts.”

 

He gave the ‘room' more than the cursory, nearly instinctive, threat assessment from earlier. Somehow, this must have been a kind of laundry room. Or perhaps a dual purpose kitchen. There was an empty stone basin with what had to be a fire pit under it. Much too heavy for a human, but easily lifted by someone like him.

 

He sorted their pockets and hung up their clothes to dry. He webbed up a temporary little pack to carry their things back to the nest and stuck it to his back. He did his best to put out of his mind how a rope of hemp, much less the food sitting in his and Sam’s bellies, could be so well preserved. He was a scientist not a witch! He didn’t know magic. Even though, surely, magic was just a kind of science that just hadn't been studied or observed enough. 

 

Mission finished, the restlessness was back. So he again patrolled the main cavern. There was a nook he could just barely squeeze into. It had no way for a normal human to reach it.

 

Inside there was a kind of… shrine wasn’t the right word. More like… a life story in pictographs carved into the walls. It was actually hard for him to see in here, but his sense of touch was better than ever. 

 

It felt like it started with a spider. Not that he was surprised by that sort of thing any longer. 

 

There wasn’t a spider bite though. The spider seemed to, inexplicably, turn into a person. The person seemed to be the same throughout, though sometimes with boobs and sometimes not. But most of the stories ended it their early, gruesome death at the hands of some massive beast or another spider. When other people appeared in the pictographs the spider seemed to treat them like prey. Until they got a witch of some kind. Then the different stories seemed to revolve around the wand.

Mostly whomever had the wand acted like a total jerk to whoever didn't. Until finally it culminated in the spider with the wand and the witch enslaved. And then they started taking… offerings? 

 

Or maybe... He swallowed. Sacrifices might be a better term. The people given to them were treated fair, at first, but sex was a recurring theme in these… stories… When he felt the carvings of the other person change from eager, to accepting, to hurt his stomach churned. He stopped reading them at that. It was… extremely disturbing.

 

He wished there was something, anything he could do to stop it.

 

Whatever. 

 

He’d been gone too long already, he could come back with a flashlight and the tablet to video the pictographs. SHIELD would love it, and he could hopefully never think about them and what they might mean for himself ever again.

 

He leapt over to the ledge, then to the ceiling and crawled through the twisting tunnel into the ~~_**nest**_~~  sleeping cave.

 

Sam was… no… Sam wasn’t Sam. His hair was black, but way too long. The scent-taste under his palms was his own, but this wasn’t -mine mine mine- despite what his new sense was screaming. This nest was all wrong. He shrunk against the ceiling. Where was the tablet? Their hiking packs and other things laid out in messy rows in the corner over there? Too many furs and herbs and rugs being woven and-

 

Not-Sam was saying something. Ah shit! He had no idea what language that was. They were so little. Much too small to be Sam’s age. Or… people were smaller in the past, weren’t they? He was sweating and panting and stuck between running back out the tunnel and trying to figure what the fuck was going on. Time travel, probably. Magic, for sure.

 

“I hate magic,” he told Not-Sam. They looked at him fearfully. Ah, well, great. Why would this person understand English, anyways? Spanish was probably out, too. And his two Xandarian phrases and handful of Sam’s favorite swears wouldn’t help even if that was what they were speaking.

 

“Sorry, um, you wouldn’t happen to know the way back to early twenty first century New York, would you?” he laughed nervously. They cringed and ducked their head, still weaving the rug? Tapestry? Something. He tried a different tack.

 

“That’s really pretty! I like it,” he smiled, then remembered belatedly his new fangs. They reached a stopping point in their weaving with shaking hands. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! I’m not mad!” he tried to say soothingly. They… She stood up. She was naked. Her breasts were small, skin loose like she’d once been fatter but had lost weight rapidly. Though that wasn’t what Peter noticed right away. 

 

“No really, it’s okay. Okay?” he lowered his voice and dropped down to the floor. Stomach churning. The scent under his feet was still _**mine mine mine**_  and her hips just had to be fractured with bruises that deep. He wanted to vomit.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Look, we can… we can get you outta here, yeah? I mean if I’m here then he’s not here and you can get out of this place, back to your family!”

 

She looked at him blankly. Duh, English. 

 

He swallowed and crouched low, keenly aware of their nakedness and wishing he’d listened to Sam and put on pants. Or boxers, or **something**. 

 

He was so busy freaking out and trying to contain his freaking out that he didn’t notice her cautious approach. He did notice her hushed, questioning tone and gentle fingers touching his wet cheeks. Ah, well, crying was usually okay. Kind of hard to see behind a mask, and, uh. She was… smiling?

 

Then something sparked between them and he understood that she was saying, "Thank you, Great Totem, for this powerful gift."

 

Then she was bowing before him with a sign he’d never seen, but was obviously respectful. Oh, good, clear dismissal. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to suck for this past him. But he could go vomit in peace now.

 

“Uh, you’re… welcome? Good luck?” he heard himself say, then turned and ran out the wrong, wrong, wrong nest. The twisting tunnel that earlier had been fun, was now a nausea inducing agony. He launched himself out of the tunnel mouth and into the lower tunnel. Where the lower tunnel ought to be. His nausea was quickly forgotten when he crashed head first into the solid stone wall. 

 

“Ow.”

 

The stone was cracked now. And while his skull wasn't, it felt like it should be. He hissed, grabbing at the stone. His talons and super strength cut through the marble like a hot knife through butter.

 

“Stupid fucking phrase, who heats a knife to cut butter?” he snarled, then hissed as his hand punched through into empty air. A few solid tosses and punches of rage unintentionally cleared out the opening. Then he was leaning over, vomiting.

 

“Ugh, gross,” he groaned, slumping against the wall. He spit and wiped his mouth off with the back of his arm. The humid, hot, stale air racing out of the cavern choked him. He staggered out into the main cavern proper, gasping.

 

A gaggle of dark haired children stared down at him from the entrance with wide eyes. Between the entrance and the ground a scrawny boy, with long dark hair stared at him. He clung to the vertical stone wall. Frozen.

 

“Uh, oops,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He tried to grin, forgetting once again his fangs. The boy startled and lost his hand hold. Peter caught him before he had fallen very far.

 

He was _**scared angry excited**_  and _**mine mine mine**_  His paternal instincts stirred at that and he started purring in an attempt to calm him.

 

The other children shrieked and ran away back down the tunnel entrance. The boy in his arms seemed to come alive at that and started fighting him. Or trying to. His punches, while strong for a kid his size, didn't really hurt.

 

“You need to hit smarter than that, kiddo,” Peter said. Grabbing the boy’s wrist he gently tapped it to the places he should have hit.

 

The child snarled something in that language he couldn't understand. Though he got the gist of it just fine.

 

Peter sighed, “New York isn't even New York yet and I'm already a menace.”

 

Peter dropped back down to the ground and let the kid go. He scampered over to the wreckage of the new tunnel entrance.

 

“Watch out for the yuck!” Peter called after him. A rude sound was his response.

 

Peter sighed and shook his head. The kid was brave enough to do a stupid dare, but the climb up looked daunting for a healthy adult. Peter climbed it carefully, using his talons and strength to carve out handholds.

 

“Hey kid, you gonna be okay?” he called down. Sad little cries were his answer, “Oh jeeze, what trouble did you find now? Please be okay little baby Nova— come on!”  Peter said, rushed and half rambling and nearly getting brained by an alarmingly sharp rock. The kid was definitely a fighter, he’d give him that.

 

“What the frick! I save you from falling to death and make you hand holds and you try to kill me? Rude!” Peter protested. He leapt to the cliff face below the ledge leading to the nest.

 

The boy threw rocks at him, shouting excitedly at his apparent triumph. Peter scrambled up the sheer cliff, unintentionally gouging crude hand holds up it.

 

“Whatever you little punk! Here enjoy your,” he reached into the pack stuck to his back and pulled something out without looking, “whatever the flip this is!”

 

There was an almost familiar cackle of glee as the boy caught his prize. A standard first aid kit. 

 

Peter hissed as delighted taunts followed him back through the tunnel.

 

The scent under his feet lost his own scent part way through. It had been so faint back there, or then, that he had thought he’d been imagining it. But it's absence was nervewrackingly apparent. 

 

Instead, the tastes of two humans his age-ish greeted him. The male scent was all over, clearly the ‘owner' of the nest. The woman’s scent was almost familiar, the man’s was definitely -mine mine mine- He cautiously ran his palm along the ceiling. No hint of his own scent there either.

 

High pitched screams reached him and he was in motion before he could think. He tripped gracelessly over an unexpected animal skin, recovered, then tripped yet again on a heavily beaded… jerkin? It tasted like buckskin under his foot before it was gone. 

 

He had just enough time to blush red as he realized the screams were of pleasure not fear. He twisted in midair so he wouldn't land face, and fang first. 

 

Then he landed. 

 

In the middle of a very naked, dark haired couple.

 

“Sup,” he said, going for totally smooth ‘I meant to do that’ and landing somewhere around ‘holy shit snacks what the frick frack just happened’.

 

And of course his dick was only too happy to give its input on his laying on soft, freshly sweaty breasts while staring into familiar, excited eyes. Even of they were blue this time.

 

“Ooookay, you guys are obviously **really busy** with **very important** , uh, ‘stuff’, so I'll just be on… my… uh… what are you doing?”

 

The woman under him asked a hushed question, or well, he thought she did. Then the guy that reminded him of Sam shushed her. 

 

“I'm really regretting languages not being a spider super power,” he muttered.

 

But then this Not-Sam was pulling out of her and holding her legs open and Peter could not look away from this Not-Sam’s wet cock.

 

“Youuuu want me tooooo uh…”

 

He wished he could say he very suavely accepted, or declined, or did anything other than gape like a fish out of water while the preincarnation of his boyfriend tried to convince him to bang his girl. Her -nervous excited scared- giggling definitely wasn't helping, well, anything.

 

“Uhhh….” he elaborated. Her fingers anxiously petting his hair was really, really nice. 

 

He really wished he could understand what was being said. He licked his lips as this Not-Sam pressed his hand against his cheek. He leaned into the touch, turning to kiss his wet fingers, then jumped at the spark that danced between them.

 

“... aren’t angry at my weakness, Great Totem? I read the signs and healed the sick through my lives, but I’m sorry, it was so lonely, I-” this Not-Sam was saying.

 

“Why would I be angry?” Peter blurted, he turned to look at the blue eyed, dark haired girl. She giggled and shrugged. He immediately and presently remembered she was extremely naked.

 

“I told Guiding Star a spirit would not be jealous of humans,” she said, for a moment serious and wise, then she sat up and ran her hands down his arm, giggling like a schoolgirl and squeezing his muscles along her path. “Are you really the Spider Spirit?”

 

Not-Sam, uh, ‘Guiding Star’ made a scandalized noise that was actually extremely hilarious and made him want to pester him until he made it again. He didn’t think Sam could **get** scandalized. And he didn’t have a microphone handy either. Dang.

 

“You dare question the-”

 

“Star, chill. Questions are good! I like questions. Don’t just blindly accept the status quo, you know what I mean?”

 

They stared at him blankly for a moment, before she reached his web shooters and he pulled his arm away from her hands. 

 

“Watch it! Those are dangerous, you know,” Peter said, she giggled nervously again. “Really, I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

 

“Oh, you honor us with your name Spider Man. Forgive our impertinence, as my wife said my name this life is Guiding Star,” he said, cautiously pressing his hands to Peter’s back and tracing a pattern around his web pack, down his muscles. Peter had the distinct impression it was just because he wanted to and not because of weird magic stuff.

 

“I am Free Summer, honored spirit,” she said moving to bow in such a way that drew his eyes to her full breasts. Peter was still stuck on something Guiding Star had said though.

 

“You want me to fuck your wife?!” the scandalized noise Peter made was at least twice as hilarious as Guiding Star’s. Though it was not a sound half as unfamiliar to his Sam. He felt Guiding Star’s smirk against the back of his neck as he pressed soft kisses there.  Free Summer kissed his feet and he wiggled his toes. Before he could protest or giggle she’d already moved on to his ankles. Guiding Star kissed his way along his hairline. He shivered. Free Summer ran her hands up his legs, his stomach, then her breasts were in his face as she changed positions, straddling him.

 

He barely noticed Free Summer kissing his throat as Guiding Star whispered in his ear, “You would honor us beyond measure.”

 

Peter made a strained sound, torn. This **wasn’t**  Sam kissing and sucking on his ear, but it also **was**. If **Sam**  was asking… well… he’d probably protest just for form’s sake so he didn’t think he was even more of a freak than he was, but… 

 

But Sam **wasn’t**  married. Sam was _**mine mine mine**_  and the scent-taste coating everything was _**mine mine mine**_  and then Free Summer was pushing her wet, ready pussy down onto his cock and she was _**mine mine mine**_

 

“Fuck,” Peter gasped, hands going to her hips. She was _**excited lusty needy happy**_ and wiggling and giggling and moaning. His new sense did let him know that some of that was for show, but she also was _**enjoying needing wanting satisfied**_

 

Then Guiding Star was kissing him, exploring his fangs with his tongue just as Sam had earlier. Peter choked back a sob at the sudden, sharp pain the memory brought. Fresh in his mind, but when would he get back? Would Sam still be sleeping? Woken up and had time enough to wonder at his absence and start to worry?

 

_**concern worry**_ tainted the _**pleasure lust**_  under his hands. Free Summer slowed her eager pace.

 

“Are you pleased honored spirit?” she asked him _**anxious nervous afraid**_

 

“Yes! Yeah! Pleased I am! You’re good, this is good, we’re good. Everything is good! Happy spider right here, totally!” Peter started rambling, moving up to his knees. She was _**pleased proud satisfied**_  His heart ached and he wanted Sam. She was wet and tight and warm and good but she wasn’t what he wanted. Even though everything smell-tasted _**mine mine mine**_  it still wasn’t, not really, “I want my… mine…”

 

He buried his face against her neck, supporting her easily as she wrapped her legs around his hips and fucked him. He had no idea how to explain exactly what he wanted. It might even be impossible, he could be stuck here forever! Never see Sam again, or come back too soon or too late.

 

“Of course my spirit,” Guiding Star said, voice full of love and worship and that was weird. Weird but kinda nice.

 

Peter looked up, brain still running, wondering what kind of lubes a paleolithic era peoples would have access to. Animal fat would be **terrible**  and… and Guiding Star wasn’t behind him any longer, or reaching for any jars or baskets that might conceivably contain lube. Free Summer’s _**anticipation excitement lust desire**_  was even more confusing.

 

Guiding Star was moving around them, behind his happily bouncing and screaming wife. The thought of that, fucking this past Sam’s wife, sent a thrill of guilt and pleasure, shame and lust rushing through him. He rolled his hips and started rocking with her motions. She had no hint at all of that confusing not-lust emotion from Sam, and he didn’t need to touch Guiding Star to know he’d feel love from him.

 

Then he was freezing again, gasping like an idiot at the sudden feel of Guiding Star’s fingers brushing against his dick, pushing into his wife's warm pussy. His knuckles pressed into his shaft as he stretched his wife open.

 

“Yes, please! Great Spirit I will take you both, give you your heart's desire. My husband's joy,” she said, breathless and writhing. Peter gaped at her. Her completely shameless emotions of _**lust excitement pleasure need**_ for what he now realized was about to happen hit him like a truck. She was so open, so wanton. 

 

Peter cautiously shifted his grip to both support Free and spread her hole open as best he could with taloned hands. She was wet around his cock, so wet. Star slid a third finger, then a fourth inside of her. Peter whined, excited and eager. He started moving again, rolling his hips lazily as Free rode him. This was-wasn’t Sam and his wife, it was wrong-good or good-wrong and anyways he’d tell Sam all when they were finally reunited. 

 

How many times had they totally over shared their ‘sexploits’ together? Had Sam been trying to hint that he was available this entire time? God what an idiot he was. Jerking it in the shower thinking of Sam when he could have been fucking him in it instead.

 

The wet head of Guiding Star’s cock rubbed against the base of his own. Peter froze again at the totally new sensation of Guiding Star’s cock sliding against his own as he pushed inside his wife’s pussy.

 

“Holy fuck,” Peter whispered. Free shuddered and clenched around their cocks as they stretched her. Her cries of ‘praise! praise!’ as she came sent visceral thrills of pleasure through Peter. And coming she was, his new sense couldn’t be tricked by acting alone. 

 

“The holiest,” Star gasped, grabbing onto his arms. They locked eyes together over Free Summer’s shoulders. Her breasts bounced nicely against Peter’s chest, her body was leanly muscled. Guiding Star gazed at him lovingly, worshipfully. It was good but also weird. Before Peter could attempt to explain he wasn’t a god, or spirit, or whatever they had mistaken him for Guiding Star moved his hips.

 

Venom gushed from Peter’s fangs, coating his own and Free’s chests. Their dicks slid together in Free’s wet heat, rubbing heads inside Free’s still clenching pussy. Peter’s hips jerked reflexively as Guiding Star settled into a steady, fast, rhythm. 

 

“Oh, oh, wow, wow that’s,” Peter panted, trying to find Guiding Star’s rhythm. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good.”

 

“Praise!” Free Summer cried, writhing between them. Orgasm winding down, panting and smiling.

 

“Fuck yeah! Praise!” Peter agreed, grinning giddily. 

 

“Holy Spirit! Yes!” Guiding Star cried, slamming into Free, balls slapping against Peter’s. His cock pulsed and flooded Free’s wet pussy with slick jizz. Peter groaned in pleasure at that. His come made her wet pussy even wetter. He hadn’t thought that was possible. Star collapsed backwards, cock slipping out. Peter and Free whined at the loss. Come, Star’s and Free’s, ran down Peter’s balls and thighs. 

 

“Ah, yeah. Glad I could help,” Peter said, smacking Free Summer’s ass with a laugh. She giggled and writhed, then wrapped her legs around his waist.

 

“Please, Spirit! Give us your joy!” she plead, kissing at his throat and grinding down.

 

“Uh, yeah, I dunno if that’s gonna happen,” at their worried expressions and Free’s _**concern fear**_  souring her _**lust need**_  he blurted,  “Totally not angry, everything’s cool. You guys are great! But, uh, I’m kinda spent.

 

“Sam, uh, my Star, kinda took it outta me earlier. But it’s cool!” Peter went on. Understanding lit their faces. The sour taste was gone under his hands and Guiding Star was standing up and walking to where an antler staff, with glowing gem, rested on the wall. It was decorated with a small, carved scene of a spider and a woman, and another of a sort of constellation and the same woman.

 

“Oh! Why didn't you say so sooner, Great Spirit! Guiding Star's magic is strong!” she said, rushed thrusts from earlier slowing down. Peter laughed awkwardly.

 

“I don't think it works like that,” he said, holding Free Summer up one handed and caressing her breasts. 

 

“What your Sun Star took I will return to you,” Guiding Star said, pressing the gem firmly into Peter's lower back. Bright white energy sparked into him from the stone.

 

Peter cried out wordlessly, muscles locking. He had just enough time to drop his hands to the ground and hang on as the most intense orgasm of his life tore through him.

 

“Great Spirit! Praise!” Free Summer cried, hanging onto him as he came and came and came, filling her, and filling her, and-

 

Peter collapsed bonelessly as the gem was pulled away. Guiding Star gently used the antler staff to redirect his graceless collapse so that he didn’t land exactly on his back. Web pack of his and Sam's things spared from getting squashed.

 

Free Summer lay on her side, twining their legs together. Peter lay there gasping, shivering and sweating in turn.

 

“Holy fuck,” Peter whispered, after a moment to catch his breath.

 

“The holiest,” Guiding Star murmured reverently. He knelt down, brushing a curve in the staff against Peter's chest to collect the slick venom running down it. 

 

“Praise,” Free Summer sighed happily. She traced patterns into the venom on his chest after the antler staff passed. He had the distinct impression it was for weird magic stuff and not only because she wanted to.

 

Guiding Star knelt down, moving the staff to his lips and reverently drinking down Peter’s venom. Free Summer turned Peter’s face towards her, away from the bizarre sight of Guiding Star slurping down his bitter, salty venom like it was wine.

 

“You honor us, Great Totem Spider Man. We have not seen a lesser spirit since you aided Searing Star all those turning seasons and countless moons ago,” she said. She was licking her lips and staring at the venom running down his chin.

 

“Truly we thought we had angered you in some way. It fills us with great happiness that you have returned to the people,” Guiding Star said, he braced himself on his staff and leaned over them, smiling. Peter gulped, his limbs were still shaking and weak. Guiding Star’s lips were wet and gold.

 

“I am so pleased you honored us with your gifts. Finally, I can begin to learn the great magic Seeking Star taught to Searing Star.”

 

“Yeah, great. Awesome,” Peter said, trying to wiggle his toes. They were mostly cooperative. His instincts were a confusing mix of _**run run run**_  and that weird urge he’d had earlier to feed Sam his venom. Except to Free Summer instead. So he asked, “You, uh, not gonna share **that** with your wifey too?”

 

“Oh Great Spirit! Praise!” Free Summer cried out, then pulled him in for a kiss. She licked and sucked the venom from his lips, his fangs, his chin and throat.

 

“Wa-watch out! Don’t get it in your eyes, or any cuts!” he blurted. Suddenly worried that she’d hurt herself somehow in her enthusiasm. 

 

“So Seeking Star warned Searing Star. It is as you say again. Wife, please, your eagerness displeases Spider Man,” Guiding Star said, stroking her back gently.

 

“Displeased? Whose displeased? Or is it whom? Or- nevermind, not important. I just don’t want you guys to get hurt! That stuff is dangerous!” Peter said, trying to push up but only managing to prop himself up on his elbow.

 

Guiding Star tapped the crystal to Peter's heart. Peter flinched, but the only thing that happened was a harmless flash of light. Peter reached up to his chest, sitting up. His venom was gone. He was rejuvenated. The staff had a new scene gleaming below the others.

 

He hopped up. 

 

“You don't gotta wait for me anymore. Have fun with your wives, uh wife, I gotta get our, uh,” Peter gestured at his webbed up pack as he made his awkward, hurried exit, “back to my Sunshine before he wakes up. Later!”

 

He leapt to the tunnel and ran, further than last time, or was it closer? The scents changed again and smoke filtered into the tunnel. The confusing scent of _**mine not mine**_  was under his feet.

 

Again the cavern was unfamiliar. Though now he noticed the pantry and kitchen-slash-laundry rooms had been started and finished.

 

“I hate magic!” he yelled. Not at all helpful but he felt a bit better. Alarmed voices cried out and down below there was the sound of panicked humans. 

 

“Most spirits enjoy giving their power to the people. You are a strange one, Great Totem.” 

 

“Gah! You speak English? What the fuck is going on?” he yelped, spinning to face the new voice.

 

The person speaking, again, almost looked like Sam. But he, no… she wasn’t... Well, they had long black hair, with two braids falling down their flat, strong chest, ending in owl feathers. Their eyes were more hazel than Sam’s were. No hint of blue as Guiding Star's had been. 

 

They dressed in an expertly hand woven and dyed skirt and their antler staff was decorated with another star person scene that Guiding Star’s hadn’t had, as well as a few hand made fetishes. Basically, if video games and tabletop RPGs had taught him anything, they were pretty much a spider shaman.

 

“No, I do not speak your tongue, Great Totem. But you speak your tongue and that is enough,” they said. Was this shaman his shaman? Had he mentioned how much he hated magic. Give him formulations and proteins and enzymes and polymers and he’d be a happy spider. Man. Whatever.

 

“Because that makes sense. Of course. Great,” Peter huffed.

 

“Great indeed,” his shaman agreed. Peter crossed his arms and looked over the ledge. Women and children were gathered below. Many of the women obviously pregnant. Some of them pale skinned. Had the Vikings gotten here already? They shrieked excitedly and bowed down when they noticed him watching. He snorted and turned back to the shaman.

 

“Cute kids, they yours?” Peter said, that seemed safe enough a thing to say. Had he accidentally started a polyamorous cult? He really should watch his mouth.

 

“And so. Your praise of our kin fills my heart with joy,” they said, smiling. Peter shifted uneasily at that. The _**mine not mine**_  scent-taste could be from relatives of his. But with what Guiding Star and Free Summer had said he would have thought all the spider people had died out or gone away.

 

The excitement below settled down to excited murmurs. They made a gesture that seemed to encompass all of the things.

 

“But to answer your question, Honored Spirit, how am I to know what has happened in your life? I read the stars as Seeking Star taught us. I study the ebb and flow of life itself through the magic of the people. And so,” they smiled. Peter glowered.

 

“And so,” he said back. They smiled wider.

 

“You are learning. But time flows in the way of itself, twisting and pouring and running and dripping. And so.”

 

“Right, okay. You guys look like you’re doing fine. Winter is coming, drink your milk, have a good life!” Peter said decisively.

 

“Your blessing makes it so, my life is good,” they bowed to Peter as he braced himself and ran back into the tunnel.

 

“Not sure that’s how it works, study science!” he called behind him as he entered the tunnel.

 

Their satisfied ‘And so’ followed him into the tunnel. But halfway through the scent of smoke was fading and the distressingly familiar scent of fresh blood was thickening.

 

“Sam!” he bellowed. He leapt into the room on a wall. Ready to fight, venom dripped from his fangs as he pointed his wrist about the room.

 

“And so, dripping down as was said twisting times ago,” a young woman said solemnly. Though her skin was indigenous her hair was bright red. 

 

He stared at her. She was wearing a skirt, different colors and material than the shaman from before. Maybe he should have gotten their name? Much too late now. 

 

A copper necklace fastened into a spider’s likeness clung tightly to her neck. Now that he thought of it, the other shaman had only bone and antler beads.

 

How much time was that between jumps? 

 

How many more before he was home? 

 

On an altar before her was a freshly slaughtered pigeon. He tried to ignore the freshly painted, blood red spider on her naked chest.

 

“Let me guess, you don’t speak English either, but me speaking it is enough,” he lowered his wrist with a sigh. She held up an obsidian and gold star themed container to his dripping fangs. He obliged her by pressing his tongue to his venom glands.

 

“And so,” she agreed. The staff didn't seem to be here.

 

“First my tears, now my venom, what’s next? My blood, my cra- uh,” he balked at being so crass to some ancient, long dead woman. Something about her reminded him very strongly of another red head in his life now.

 

“And so,” she said, stoppering the container. Peter sighed. She looked up at him and solemnly added, “You restored the spirits to the people with your love and opened for us the path to the cleansing waters with your-”

 

“And so! If you’re all good I’m kind of, one hundred and twelve percent done with whatever this is,” he said, clearly drained. Oh, that **would**  explain the confusing _**mine not mine**_  taste. His descendents would probably smell like him for a while.

 

Shrugging, she set aside the obsidian container and offered him a bowl of fresh pigeon blood.

 

“Ew. Gross. No way. I’d rather have fresh, clean, dysentery free water, thanks,” he said. She sat the bowl of blood back at the altar with the bound, dead pigeon, “Oh, hey, at least you’ll have a nice dinner now.”

 

“And so,” she murmured. She offered him the bowl of pinkish red water on the altar instead, he nearly took a swig before the scent of sumac assaulted him.

 

“Ahhh haha, you nearly got me there, ‘Mary Jane’. I do not need any spider nip tea, thank you very much. I need a clear head for whatever the frick is going on,” he said, pushing the bowl back at her. 

 

“Sumac water clouds your mind?” she said, taking it back in surprise. Peter grimaced.

 

“Don’t remind me, ugh,” he grumped. She offered him a waterskin instead. A cautious sniff revealed it was filled with good, if warmer than he was used to, milk.

 

She bowed before him, “You honor me, Great Totem, with a powerful name and sacred gift.”

 

He chugged it down and passed the empty skin back to her. “Thanks, that really hit the spot!”

 

He smacked his lips thoughtfully, ignoring her pleased ‘and so’.

 

“Really super sweet,” he hadn't had milk this sweet before. Though for some reason it stirred up half forgotten, early memories of his mom soothing him to sleep. He licked the last taste of it off his lips and added, “and rich.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, smiling, “Star Reader took your warning of the long winters to her elders and we have survived well. Drinking our milk as you said, the heathen vikings could not sicken us with their magic. Seeing our strength their spirits welcomed our elders to the world across the rainbow bridge.”

 

Peter stared at her full, blood covered breasts. He swallowed.

 

_Keep your mouth shut, Parker_ , he reminded himself. Just before he started talking. “Great! Awesome! Glad I could help! You guys are doing good! Watch out for Loki, he's a trickster, like Coyote, you know. Uh, anyways, I gotta get! Peace!” he blurted, leaping to the ceiling before the tunnel and darting through it.

 

“And so,” Peter groaned in unison with the shaman behind him.

 

When the scent under him changed again to another unfamiliar cave, he groaned.

 

“What are they sacrificing to me this time?” he complained to himself at the still powerful scent of fresh blood tainting the air. At the angry shouting he was once again in motion before he realized it. 

 

He could only understand one of the voices, and it was getting weaker. Then he was landing between the injured woman and the big, reeking, scarred warrior, reflexively knocking him into the wall full strength.

 

“No killing! How many times do I gotta tell you, Wilson!” Peter snarled. He wheeled around and inspected the woman's injuries.

 

“What a shitty fucking cameo,” the big blond brute choked out before dying.

 

“Ah, Great Spirit! What a blessed day this is!” 

 

A serious, deep cut severed her tendons in her arm at the elbow. Her other hand was crushed. By some dumb luck her main arteries and veins were uninjured. He webbed up the cut.

 

“That’ll only hold an hour, you have any medical thread, needles?” Peter asked, before remembering those terms would be next to useless. He gingerly examined her broken hand. With modern medicine it'd be usable after therapy, but…

 

“My staff, if it pleases your design,” she said. Peter looked around, finding an antler staff. It had many more scenes carved in it now.

 

“I don't have a **design**. I'm just trying to mess things up as little as possible on my way back to-"

 

She flared into blue-white light. Peter squinted and shaded his eyes with a clawed hand.

 

“Nova…”

 

“A doubly blessed day!” she said, glow dying down and whole once again.

 

“Honored Seer! Honored Seer!” Peter spun, webbing down the blond haired teen from the entrance and to him. Or tried to, the long haired teen grabbed the web line and burned through it.

 

Peter leapt, catching the boy before he could land. 

 

“Calm!” 

 

The two froze at her sudden booming voice and light show. Slowly, Peter let him go. He ran to this Not-Sam, clearly frantic.

 

“Ember Storm, what brings you here in such a state? You should be out helping our honored visitor with his sacred quest.”

 

“It was as the Great Totem predicted twisting turnings ago! A trick, a trap! I am only pleased I got here before that cursed traitor Williamson,” Ember Storm got out. Peter’s shaman pointed at the twitching, blonde corpse lying against the wall. Peter felt sick.

 

“Williamson was cursed indeed. His treachery summoned our Great Totem to my aid. Now, Ember Storm tend to our Great Totem while I aide Seeking Star against our enemies,” she said, gesturing at Peter. He was not handling the realization this person was not actually Wade Wilson and therefore was actually dead all that well, “For I have been doubly blessed and now will show our enemies what a Death Star is capable of!”

 

The newly named Death Star held onto her staff with both hands and powered up, glowing blue-white. She flew out the tunnel entrance. Peter was curled in on himself staring at his hands in horror and muttering. Ember Storm stared at him.

 

“ **You**  are the Great Totem?” he said, surly. “You weep over killing a traitor.”

 

“Noone deserves death! I thought, I thought he would heal, get better,” Peter said, too distraught to wonder why he could understand his words. Or explain better.

 

Ember Storm shook his head and sighed.

 

“Humans are not like spirits, there is no healing from death,” he settled on. Peter looked up at him, still crying. 

 

Ember Storm crouched down and helped Peter stand.

 

“Come ‘Great Totem’ let me do as Peace, no, Death Star asked,” Storm said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Peter leaned on him as they walked down the lower tunnel to the baths.

 

Peter looked up at the unadorned wall with the main tunnel entrance.

 

“Where's the-” Peter gestured at the wall, “-the dream catcher thingy that makes everything safe?”

 

Why hadn't he noticed it missing sooner? No wonder he’d been anxious. No excuse for murdering Wade’s preincarnation though.

 

Peter sighed sadly, he hadn't even tried to talk him down.

 

“The cost of this magic is high. But we can begin as soon as we are victorious over the White Demons,” Ember Storm said. Peter frowned. He was being lead into the baths.

 

Peter blinked at him. They were both white. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but Ember Storm was going on.

 

“With you here, we will surely be victorious. We will take their children and raise them in the ways of the people. We will grow in strength and your magic will be even better!”

 

“I hate magic. And there isn't any winning against the Europeans. Not permanently. You can win all the battles you fight, you can be at peace, you can welcome them with open arms, and they'll still murder you all,” Peter said, tired and bitter. He couldn't think of any ways to avoid the coming genocide. Tears ran down his face at the injustice of it all.

 

“A prophecy most dire,”  Ember Storm said. There was a wooden stool in the baths now. Ember Storm sat him on it and filled a bucket, decorated with stylized stars.

 

Peter sighed and rubbed at his face. He was exhausted, drained. Whatever rejuvenating magic Guiding Star had used on him felt weaker now. He barely noticed Ember Storm washing him tenderly.

 

He did notice Ember Storm taking the web pack of his and Sam's things and placing it carefully on the wall.

 

“Hey! What's the big idea, Torchy?” Peter said, short and sharp. Then he moaned in appreciation as Ember Storm began rubbing his back.

 

“I am tending to you as Death Star instructed,” he replied, surly. Peter started purring as his warm hands kneaded out the tension in his back.

 

“Yeah, okay, that's nice **and** ,” he moaned as warm hands rubbed gently at a sensitive spot just above his hips.

 

“I **am** glad that I am pleasing you, Great Totem,” he did sound sincere. Peter was a bit surprised at that.

 

“Oh yeah? I thought you were mad Death Star gave you totemsitting duty,” Peter said, not really caring but curious.

 

“I would rather be battling the midgardians, it is true. You honor me with your trust and your pleasure,” he responded.

 

Peter stood up at that, turning to face Ember Storm.

 

“We're all midgardian. It's the Asgardian name for our planet. And picking a fight with Midgard is basically picking a fight with Thor,” Peter said.

 

Ember Storm snapped his fingers, making fire.

 

“With Seeking Star **and**  Death Star what chance does their hollow spirit stand?” he scoffed. Peter grabbed his pack off the wall and stuck it to his back again.

 

“Thor is definitely not hollow. And honestly they're going to get squashed if they’re dumb enough to fight Thor,” Peter said, heading down the tunnel at a jog. Ember Storm ran with him.

 

“But they are traitors! Enemies of the people! What kind of empty-”

 

Peter hissed, eyes glowing red. “Look kid, I know Thor. And Thor would never agree to this! If you're his enemy he says so straight up, none of this backstabbing junk!”

 

Peter paced at the entrance of the lower tunnel. He looked back up at the now attentive fire mutate. Or shaman trainee. Acolyte? Anyways, Ember Storm was no longer surly and actually paying attention. Peter continued, “This just reeks of Loki. He hates Thor and would love to watch him kill us midgardians. Start a feud only satisfied by the total annihilation of the other side.”

 

“But, you would aide us! You can't just abandon your people! We need you!”

 

Peter stared at him sternly. “I can't win a fight with Thor. It isn't possible. And listen you flame brain, I know you have more than hot air in that thick skull of yours. Thor didn't approve of this. It's Loki or Hel. Probably Loki.”

 

“As sneaky as Coyote,” Ember Storm said in dawning horror. “I must go now! Take your warning to Death Star in time to stop the feud!”

 

Peter waved him on.

 

“Yeah, yeah, save the world kid,” Peter said. As if he weren't fresh out of his teens himself.

 

Ember Storm leapt up and flared into fiery brilliance, flying out through the tunnel and presumably on to his destiny. Peter watched him leave.

 

He frowned at this past Wade’s body. He couldn't just leave him in a bloody heap, it was unseemly. And just plain wrong. He looked around, the rug beneath his feet was already ruined, or part of it was.

 

He used his talons to cut out a bloody shroud. He thought the Wade he knew might appreciate it, even if only because he had a twisted sense of humor. He removed all of this Wade’s weapons he could find and laid them out neatly beside his body. Berserkers wore no armor, so he arranged the broken body as neatly as he could.

 

He stood up and wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist. He sniffed before saying, “So long Wade, see you in New York I guess.”

 

He climbed the small cliff, exhausted. He yawned through the time skip as he crawled through the tunnel.

 

The ceiling under his palms had traces of _**him not him**_  now. He stopped his purposefully loud motions and slunk out of the tunnel and into the corner of the nest. His stomach churned before he’d fully processed why. 

 

The smell-tastes under his palms and feet were _**his not his**_  and _**anger lust fear fury pain excitement**_

 

The nest looked like it had been ransacked. Or… or like he’d flipped and took it out on whatever was handy. Well, not **him** but, oh. **Oh**. Sprawled lewdly in the sleeping nook was a very naked, very dead, blonde man. 

 

Almost against his will he approached the body. Ah, yeah, that was the _**not him**_ that he was having trouble placing. He was a she this time. 

 

“She must not have that good of control over her instincts,” he said, pressing tenderly at the deep bites in the still warm corpse’s neck. Golden venom and clear fluids oozed out. 

 

“Well, the least I can do is arrange you with a bit more dignity, brother,” he said, shaking out a fur _**bear**_  and gently resting the body on it. He reached up and lightly closed the staring eyes.

 

“The fuck are you?”

 

Peter leapt up onto the corner, heart racing. No Spidey-Sense, but her voice and body… yeah, yeah that was… really, really weird. She had fangs, talons, red eyes and pale skin. Were all of the ‘him’s’ pale skinned? That was weird. Her long hair was in a braid down her back and she carried an arquebus. She was naked.

 

She was glaring at him. 

 

He gulped. 

 

“Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” he tried, smiling winningly. She was less than impressed. 

 

“Oh, it's you,” she said, clearly annoyed.

 

Peter waved.

 

“Well you aren't eating it, that's mine,” she snapped. Peter stared at her in horror.

 

“You're gonna eat him! No! Gross! Don't eat people! No killing!” he blurted, “And definitely no killing someone in the middle of doing the do! God, what is wrong with you!”

 

She squinted at him.

 

“I'm a spider spirit,” she said, as if explaining something obvious to a very slow child.

 

“That's no excuse! Just because! Because! Don't kill people! It's wrong!”

 

“Oh yeah, obviously don't kill **people**  that’d just be stupid. Where’d I get my power from if they all died?”

 

Peter gaped at her. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

 

“Besides killing the people would make Sacred Sumac upset and Shining Star is determined to be a brave this life,” she shrugged and shook her head, “humans. They never listen.”

 

Peter pointed at the body.

 

“Humans are people! That's a people! You killed a person! You've made ME UPSET YOU HEARTLESS FREAK!” Peter shrieked, leaping into action. She bounced off the wall with a crack, the muzzle loader dropping and discharging with a deafening boom in the small cave.

 

She hissed and rubbed at the back of her head.

 

“Hwhaet whus thayt sonde?”

 

They both stared in surprise at the rather less than dead man looking about the room in confusion. Peter, much more used to  complete and utter nonsense, recovered first. He grabbed the arquebus from where it had landed and tossed the blonde man over his shoulders.

 

“Aye seye unnhhande mi foyl daemon!”

 

Peter ignored him, pointing at the still confused past him with the smoking gun.

 

“Don't eat people, don't eat humans! Use your power responsibly, stop controlling people's lives!”

 

She stood up, hissing.

 

“Okay Greggy boy, that's our cue!” Peter said, turning and running into the tunnel.

 

“Yee doth mine oyyn naym noeth! Gohd hath myn sool tu kipe, yee canne noht taek et!”

 

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’m a menace. Tell me something new,” Peter grumbled.

 

“Eai yine Anglesh be mst safyj yt I ken kompyreehand!”

 

“My English is savage? Hello pot, this is kettle. You're black,” he snarked back.

 

“Whaet soursery speeketh yee? Ai aym a gud Khrishtan Aenglishmahn!”

 

“Yeah yeah, praise Jesus, magic bad. Buddy, I feel you. I hate magic.”

 

“A Chrystyn deemonn! Godde be goodde!”

 

“Ugh, just once, once! I'd like someone to actually thank me for saving their life. Is that too much trouble to ask?” Peter declared, stopping at the ledge and glaring down. He blinked, surprised.

 

It looked like the entire tribe was here, from gnarled, white haired elders to newborn, suckling babes. Most of the tribe. The braves, or men of fighting age, weren’t here. 

 

“A dinn ohv savajes!”

 

The air was charged with tension and fear. The tribe members were no longer purely, or even mostly Amerindian. Many of them had wooden or bone crosses hanging around their necks.

 

“You’re a den of savages,” Peter snapped, then said, “Do savages wear crosses? And killing is wrong no matter what God or gods a person has.”

 

“Wise words, Spider that walks like a Man. But I fear even your wisdom cannot save us now.”

 

“Spider-Man, just, Spider-Man. And uh, you got the glowy dreamcatcher in place! That's a good! What's up?”

 

The white haired woman that had spoken reached out for the, uh, for ‘Greg' and offered him a drink from a steel flask. He set the increasingly alive, and vocal, man on his feet. Greg drank from it and offered it to Peter. He handed it back to the woman without tasting it. 

 

She was wearing a plain homespun dress, well made but black and patternless. She wasn't a shaman, or a brave. Her dress had fine lace trim.

 

“It was as you said to your witch lover. Even though we welcomed them with love and friendship, they took and took and took. Some of the people tried to follow their God, take them as husbands, but here we all are. Worthy only of death.”

 

“That's not true! I didn’t bang-! Ugh, not important now. I mean, okay whatever happened to you sounds historically accurate, yeah. But you guys don't deserved to die! No one deserves death!” Peter said, crying again at the injustice of it all. She handed him a handkerchief, finely embroidered with cat’s whiskers and spider lilies. Peter wiped his tears and blew his nose on it.

 

“True, even monsters must have souls. They have sent an emissary to negotiate peace. It is a generous offer. Enough blankets to keep us warm through the winter, the food and growing grounds at the sunward most of our lodges, and-”

 

“No! No! NO DON’T TAKE THE BLANKETS!” Peter screamed, grabbing her by the shoulders and almost shaking her before catching himself.

 

“Don't take the blankets,” he said, quieter now, “They’re infected with smallpox. You can inoculate yourselves from cat or cow pox poxes. Put the pus in your blood. It'll make you sick but you won't die. And… west, west is good. Winters are easier the further south you go, too. I'm-” he swallowed and looked away. A hundred pairs of eyes looked up at him with hope.

 

“I'm so sorry, I have to… I have to get back. I have to go. Is there… is there anything else?” he asked, turning back to the pair on the ledge with him.

 

“Mine arkbus iffe yt plees yee,” Greg said, holding out his hand. 

 

“Yeah, it pleases,” Peter shrugged and gave it to him. 

 

“Ah, Spider Man, the heathen legends tell of the spider spirit’s strength, but surely you need that musket wound tended to?” 

 

Peter stretched and twisted, inspecting himself. A lead musket ball fell to the ground with a clatter. Greg made the evil eye at that. 

 

“Heh, low velocity rounds. Not nearly as painful as rifle bullets,” Peter said, pressing the handkerchief to his ribs at the fresh bleeding and picking up the flattened bit of soft metal. He reshaped it and tossed it at Greg. The unintroduced woman caught it midair.

 

Bleeding already stopped, Peter offered her the rather dirty handkerchief back. She pushed it back to him. The scent taste confirmed his suspensions.

 

“Thanks, and good luck, ‘Felicia’, my peeps, peace out!” Peter said, walking back to the tunnel mouth and flashing the ‘v’ for victory, or peace sign behind him.

 

“You know my name is Felicity? Perhaps the age of miracles is **not** over, after all.”

 

“Ghodd go whyth yee, spydr damonnn.” 

 

Peter leapt to the ceiling of the tunnel and headed back inside, feeling lighter already. Surely this jump would take him  _ **mine mine mine**_  was under his hands before he could finish the thought.

 

“Finally!” he practically skipped, he did hop and wiggle, down the tunnel, flipping to land on the floor and reaching for the webbed up pack of their things. It wasn’t there. 

 

“Dammit! Black Cat you stupid-!” 

 

“Aw, and here I thought I was the only one that could make you cuss,” Sam’s familiar voice said from behind him.

 

“She stole our stuff!” Peter wheeled around and stomped in frustration.

 

“Shit, Webs! I didn’t hear a fucking hand cannon go off, where did you *find* an asshole with a musket to get shot with anyways?” Sam said, already on his feet and wrangling Peter over to the rows of their stuff.

 

“The fifteenth century. I think,” Peter answered. Content to let Sam tend to him. He hissed at the sting of alcohol around the edges, but the wipe was mostly for cleaning up the mess. His healing factor usually healed him fast enough to avoid infection in smaller injuries.

 

“Well it's damn lucky it lost its force before it reached you, or your bones got stronger when your fangs came in or some shit,” Sam said. He was _**unhappy worried scared mad**_

 

“I'm sorry Felicia’s preincarnation stole all our stuff,” Peter said. Sam looked up at him _**annoyed affection**_

 

“You know, that really should weird me out more than it does. But okay, you lost all our stuff to your crazy ex’s past self **somehow**  in the fifteenth century and-”

 

“Seventeenth or eighteenth, I think,” Peter interjected.

 

Sam stared at him.

 

“I got shot by lady me in the fifteenth century saving dude Gwen from spider bites, the bad kind,” he elaborated. Sam looked back down at his injury and blew out a breath _**frustration annoyance**_

 

“It's down to the bone, gonna need ThinSkin. I think we have enough. Be still, stay,” Sam said, signing ‘sit stay’ at him. Peter sulked at that, but stayed.

 

Sam rummaged through their opened emergency kit and pulled out a tube of NearSkyn.

 

“Great, I _flark'ng_ told them field kits need the ThinSkin not this useless spray on _schlag_ ,” Sam complained. Peter shrugged, then stared in consternation at the wall above the sleeping nook.

 

“Uh, was that stick always here?”

 

Sam looked over, then rolled his eyes.

 

“That isn't a stick, dumbass, it’s an antler,” he said. 

 

Peter stood up.  “No way! That thing is bigger than me! What the heck is it an antler from?”

 

“Sit down!” Sam snapped, scrambling over to Peter and pushing him back. The antler had no engravings on it.

Peter ignored him. Sam pushed harder, Peter kept walking. “How the fuck should I know, Webs? Stop pulling your ribs your gonna reopen it!”

 

“I'm not pulling my ribs. Oh! What's that between the pokey things?”

 

“Points! Stop! Walking!”

 

“Uh, no? I don't think it's a scorecard?” Peter said, tilting his head. Something glinted in the LED lighting of the sleeping cave. It was suspended between the top most points of the broken antler.

 

“The fucking ‘pokey things’ on an antler are called points! Peter! I swear to all that is holy if you open up that wound I'll make you regret it!”

 

Peter grabbed the antler, dirty handkerchief forgotten in his hands.

 

He felt **something**  move from inside him into the antler. His skin prickled all over in goosebumps and his hair felt like he was touching a live tesla coil. Or duking it out with Electro. Blood ran down his side.

 

“Put. It. Back.” Sam whisper shouted at him, his own hair was in the same state. If it wasn't so potentially serious, and punch inducing he’d be laughing. Okay mostly it was the fear of Sam getting actually pissed at him that kept him from pointing out how silly Sam looked with his armpit hair frizzing out in the energy field. As it was, he still couldn't keep himself from snickering. 

 

“You know that like, never works, right?”

 

“Fine! Then *I'll* put it back!”

 

At Sam’s touch the room seemed to flashover with raw, blue-white energy. Peter felt like he’d taken a hit from Hulk. He staggered back, just barely hanging onto consciousness. Sam’s body silhouetted, space black against the blinding light.

 

Then he was gone. 

 

“Sam!”

 

Peter couldn’t hear himself shouting. He reached over to where Sam had been, falling to his knees.

 

“No, God, Sam! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sam!”

 

His hearing was coming back, but the only thing he could hear was his racing heart. Everything under his hands, his feet, smelled like ozone and plasma _**magic**_

 

He keened, talons digging into the rock, tears running down his face.

 

“I shoulda stayed put, I shoulda listened! I-”

 

He was so lost in grief that he didn't hear the soft sound of beads from the tunnel.

  
_ To Be Continued... _


	8. Soft Reset

“Damn fucking right you shoulda listened to me you _das’t_ webheaded idiot! Do you know what- awk!”

 

“Sam!” Peter tackled him through the tunnel entry way, kissing him soundly. Beads rattled at their rather rough landing and Sam grunted. But his scent-taste was _**relieved happy mine**_  and also **_magic_**

 

“I love you!” Peter blurted as he came up for air. Sam smirked and under his hands he finally placed that emotion he’d mistaken for lust.

 

“I know,” Sam said **_agreeing loving happy_  **

 

“You don't even like Star Wars!” Peter accused, but he was smiling. Sam kissed him again, thoroughly, soundly. Under his touch, or was he seeing it? Sam seemed to pulse with energy.

 

“Only because it’s so dumb. Explosions don’t look like that in space, they’re just glittery poofs. And you don’t like it either,” Sam said, then pressed his hands to Peter’s cheeks and kissed him again. Peter purred as he kissed back.

 

“God, Sam, I thought I lost you!” Peter said, smiling and crying happy tears. Sam smiled sadly at that. His hair sparkled in the light of the gem like the depths of space seen through atmosphere.

 

“Yeah, well, here I am!” he said, putting Peter's hands on his hips and walking them back into the cave.

 

Peter nuzzled into his neck, kissing and nipping as they went. Sam moaned **_happy wistful loving anxious_**  and whispering under it all _**ozone**_

 

“You taste like magic?” Peter said, perplexed but not that worried. Sam’s bruises were gone, “You can heal yourself like Death Star?”

 

Sam snorted and stopped them in the exact center of the room. He pressed his staff’s glowing gem to Peter’s side. Peter shivered as it healed him.

 

“I can't believe you named her **Death Star** ,” Sam said. He gently stopped Peter from taking off his ceremonial, heavily beaded jerkin that covered his chest and shoulders. Peter shrugged and moved his nibbling kisses from Sam's exposed collarbone to his exposed navel.

 

“Translation error,” Peter said with another shrug, “I said Nova cause she glowed like you going super you.”

 

Sam ran his fingers through Peter's hair. Petting him tenderly. Peter purred.

 

“I missed you so much, Pete,” Sam said, eyes sad and dark, voice rough. “I was there, you know. _Flark'ng_ time travel.”

 

He laughed, bitter and too loud. The emotions under Peter's hands were too complicated, too intense. All he could parse was **_regret love_**  and what he thought of as **_magic_**

 

“Magic and time travel, ugh,” Peter said with a shake off his head. He kissed Sam's abs tenderly, tickling his belly button with his tongue. Sam laughed, a real one with **_affection love_**

 

“It's not magic, Webs,” Sam said. Peter nuzzled at the dark hair trailing down Sam's abs. He was again reminded of space as Sam’s hair glittered wyrdly in the light from the staff.

 

“It sure looks like magic to me,” Peter said, pausing to take off the bottoms of Sam’s formal dress.

 

“How does this even?” he grumbled after a moment. Sam laughed softly.

 

“Here,” he said, waving them to the floor with a gesture.

 

Peter raised his eyebrow, “Not magic, huh?”

 

“Mmmm nope, not magic,” Sam said. And even though he was smirking fondly he still tasted **_sad loving regretful_**

 

“Sam? Is everything okay?” Peter asked, looking up at him from his knees. He kissed Sam’s thighs as he watched his face, his hands caressing his ass and lower back.

 

“Everything is going to be okay, Webs,” Sam said, _**t**_ ** _ruth love hope worry_**

 

He knelt down and kissed Peter again. Peter purred and kissed him back, content.

 

“Hey, did you know those kinky mother fuckers used spirit venom as lube?” Sam asked, grinning. Peter nearly choked, laughing.

 

“Seriously? It’s **safe**? The tiniest-”

 

“Yeah, no, sort of? Turns out if you eat it, or drink it, the worst it’ll do is make you super, hella sleepy,” Sam said, trailing his fingers down Peter’s chest. “So I guess I’m sorry I got mad at you for feeding me that stupid stew.”

 

“Aw, thanks Buckethead. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about my cooking before!” Peter snarked, but he kissed him again. He rocked their hips together. Sam was warm and tingly against his skin, his cock.

 

Sam pulled him down to the warm ground, kissing him softly. He chuckled and ran his hands over Peter's body.

 

“Better brace yourself, Webs, ‘cause I've been… gone… so long I even miss your shitty ramen dinners,” Sam teased, before kissing him again. Sweetly, softly.

 

Peter kissed eagerly back, before pulling away to laugh. “Wow, okay, who are you and what have you done with Sam?”

 

Sam didn't laugh.

 

“Don't even joke, Pete,” he said, strained. Peter pressed his palm to his cheek. Sam turned to kiss him **_worry love_**  and tingling **_ozone_**

 

“Yeah, it’s uh, not a good one,” Peter conceded. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I really missed you. I thought-”

 

Sam chuckled but he didn’t taste of humor. “Made you regret not listening, didn’t I?”

 

Peter blew out his breath with an annoyed noise. Sam kissed him. He was so warm. Peter sighed into the kiss. But reminded by his own teasing, he pulled away. He bit his lip and said, “Hey um, I uh, might have accidentally banged a past you and his wife.”

 

Sam snorted and reached up to hold his hand.

 

“Accidentally? How do you accidentally have a threesome, nerd?” Sam teased. Peter blushed and looked away, mumbling.

 

Sam laughed.

 

Peter ducked his head.

 

“Seriously, it's cool. Carrie ‘s always been kinda pushy. And, uh,” Sam looked at the only fetish on his staff. It was crudely done. “I met your son. He made me this.”

 

Sam brought the staff down between them. Peter stared at the little fetish, emotions swirling through him at the definite, undeniable proof that he'd had a kid. A kid that had grown up without him, died never even meeting him. His bones now dust. Had been dust for a long, long time.

 

Sam kissed away Peter's tears, the gem resting against his heart warming him with both heat and **_love_**

 

“His parents loved him. Spoiled him rotten. He was a total brat. Don't worry though, I set him straight,” Sam said, carding his fingers through Peter's hair.

 

They lay there for a time, then Peter wiped at his damp eyes. He was so tired he’d thought Sam was fuzzing out. Like those chintzy special effects that he hated so much.

 

Peter kissed him again, he was solid. Warm **_regretful loving_ ** and tingly **_magic_ **

 

Sam’s hands slowly wandered over Peter’s body, pressing firmly against his skin, then teasing lightly at his nipples. Peter moaned into their kiss, and tried again to push off the beaded buckskin covering Sam’s chest.

 

“Shh, Pete. Come on, we’ve got,” Sam’s breath hitched, “we’ve got,” he didn’t finish, pulling Peter’s hands away from his skin. He let go and said, “We’ve got a whole lifetime of whatever you want. Leave the _das’t_ shirt on and prep me, idiot.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” Peter laughed weakly at that, “So you want me to find the lube or-” Peter waggled his eyebrows and grinned, showing off his shining fangs. Sam laughed, again a real **_happy loving_ ** laugh.

 

“Yeah sure, use your fangs Webs,” Sam said, grinning and pulling him down to the floor with him. Previously unseen designs slowly began appearing in the stone as he set down his staff.

 

“Oooh, dinner and a show,” he teased, giggling. Sam reached between them, stroking Peter’s cock. Peter gasped and purred at the light touch.

 

“You’re a fucking dork,” Sam said, smiling softly.

 

“Admit it. You love it,” Peter said, smiling back too happy to really be teasing. Sam let go of him as he moved to kneel between Sam’s legs. Sam spread his legs open for him.

 

“Yeah, I really do,” Sam agreed, wistful. Peter carefully spread him open with his taloned fingers and pressed tender kisses to his entrance. Sam squirmed a bit under him, then sighed in contentment as he started licking.

 

Peter said nothing else for a while, content to listen to Sam’s soft noises of pleasure as he rimmed him. His fangs teased Sam’s sensitive skin even as they leaked hot venom over him.

 

“Fuck, yeah. Pete,” Sam moaned. Then he gasped in excitement as Peter tongued his ass open and worked his slick venom in with his hot tongue and lips, “Gods, you’re so good.”

 

Peter hummed and pushed up to his knees. He spat venom onto his palm and lubed up his cock. Sam grinned up at him, soft, warm, practically glowing and ethereal in the light from his staff. Skin shining like the setting sun, hair gleaming like the depths of space.

 

Peter pushed into him. He was warm and wet and thrills of near electric something raced through Peter at the touch. Sam looked up at him with love, eyes shining bright. Peter pushed into his welcoming heat, up to the hilt.

 

“God, Sam. You’re so fucking perfect,” Peter said, hushed in the soft light of the cavern. He leaned down, kissing him softly. Something seemed to move from inside him and into Sam. He gasped, hands suddenly gripping empty air.

 

“I'm so sorry, Peter,” Sam whispered against his lips. His hazel-green eyes were glowing blue-white. Something he usually needed his helmet for.

 

Peter raised a shaking hand and pressed his palm to Sam's cheek, breath catching. He hadn't been imagining it. Sam was… or to be more accurate, Sam **wasn’t**.

 

“I think I can reset us back to our last, um, something like a save state. But I, fuck, Peter I’m sorry I just wanted you one last time. Just, just in case it didn’t work. I, I wanted to remember-”

 

“Oh God, I-I,” Peter choked out.

 

“You didn't do this! You didn't kill me!” Sam snapped, tasting of **_truth frustration love worry_ **

  
Peter held onto him, shaking. Too exhausted for tears.

 

“Open your ears, Webs. I can-”

 

“This isn't a **game** , Sam! We don't have save states to reload to!” Peter shouted, shaking him. His form lost cohesion and fuzzed out into a vaguely Sam shaped blur.

 

“Calm down! This body is hard, idiot!” Sam’s voice echoed weirdly. Peter stopped, apology on his lips before he giggled. Somewhat hysterically he was sure.

 

“That's what **she** said,” Peter said after catching his breath. Sam rolled his eyes and laughed.

 

“Idiot,” he said, but his scent-taste was **_affection love_**  over the acrid **_magic_**

 

“Dork,” Peter responded, smiling sadly.

 

“I know this isn't a game. It's a metalphore. I can-”

 

“Metaphor, though analogy might be-”

 

“Webs.”

 

Peter buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck.

 

Sam kissed the top of his head. He lifted his staff up and pressed the glowing gem to the middle of Peter’s lower back.

 

Peter came so hard he passed out.

 

_***_

 

_Peter grabbed the antler, dirty handkerchief forgotten in his hands._

 

_“Peter! I swear to all that is holy if you open up that wound I'll make you regret it!”_

 

_***_

 

 _“_ _But here we all are. Worthy only of death._ _”_

 

 _“_ _But you guys don't deserved to die! No one deserves death!_ _”_

 

_***_

 

 _“_ _A dinn ohv savajes!_ _”_

 

 _“_ _My English is savage? Hello pot, this is kettle. You're black._ _”_

 

_***_

 

_“What a shitty fucking cameo.”_

 

 _“W_ _hat are they sacrificing to me this time?_ _"_

 

_***_

 

_“Sumac water clouds your mind?”_

 

 _“_ _First my tears, now my venom, what’s next?"_

 

_***_

 

_“But time flows in the way of itself, twisting and pouring and running and dripping. And so.”_

 

_“Because that makes sense. Of course. Great.”_

 

_***_

 

_"The holiest."_

 

_"Praise! Praise!"_

 

_"Holy fuck."_

 

_***_

 

_Grabbing the boy’s wrist Peter gently tapped it to the places he should have hit._

 

_“You need to hit smarter than that, kiddo.”_

 

_***_

 

_“Thank you, Great Totem, for this powerful gift.”_

 

_“You wouldn’t happen to know the way back to early twenty first century New York, would you?”_

 

_***_

 

_“That's not gonna work, Webs,”_

 

_“No! I won't! I won't hurt you!”_

  
  
**_To Be Continued..._ **


	9. Hard Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP and READ THIS  
> This chapter is OPTIONAL. You do not need to read it to understand the final chapter. Feel free to skip this chapter and just go with Sam fixing everything by the Soft Reset.
> 
> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> This chapter contains graphic descriptions of rape and murder of a main character.

Peter staggered into the sleeping nest, blinking and dazed. The webpack of their things was missing, but he hardly noticed. The comforting scent of Sam and himself was under his feet.

 

“Finally,” he groaned.

 

“There you are! Jeeze, what took so _das’t_ long?” Sam said, looking up. “Shit, Webs! I didn’t hear a fucking hand cannon go off, where did you **find** an asshole with a musket to get shot with anyways?”

 

Sam leapt to his feet and pulled Peter over to the rows of their stuff. Peter blinked at him, dazed.

 

“Somewhen in the fourteen hundreds maybe?” Peter said, content to let Sam tend his injury. He winced at the sting of alcohol from the wipe Sam was using to clean up the mess.

 

“Well it's damn lucky it lost its force before it reached you, or your bones got stronger when your fangs came in or some shit,” Sam said. He was **unhappy worried scared mad**

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, exhausted. Sam grunted.

 

“It's down to the bone, gonna need ThinSkin. Hang tight,” Sam said, not even meaning to be punny. Peter’s lips quirked but that was as much effort as he could muster. Sam rummaged through their opened emergency kit and pulled out a tube of NearSkyn.

 

“Great, I _flark'ng_ told them field kits need the ThinSkin not this useless spray on _schlag_ ,” Sam complained.

 

“Just spray it on, I’ll be fine,” Peter shrugged. something pulled his attention to the far wall. He stared. “Uh, was that always there?”

 

Sam looked over and frowned at the antler on the wall. It has a crude fetish tied to one point below where a crystal was suspended. A handgrip decorated in spider lilies and cats whiskers adorned it. Sam shifted his weight, uneasy.

 

“I think… I don’t know. I can’t remember…” he said.

 

“What even is it?” Peter wondered.

 

“Some kinda antler or something,” Sam said, making his way over to Peter to spray on the high tech bandage.

 

“No way! An antler? What even is it from?! It’s bigger than you are, for sure,” Peter said, standing up.

 

“Oh hah hah, short jokes. Those **never** get old,” Sam muttered moving with Peter across the cave.

 

“You’re right, they don’t. You’re short. It’s kind of adorable, too bad, so sad,” Peter responded, almost absently. Sam frowned at Peter’s wound, the liquid bandage had bonded poorly near the bone.

 

“You need to rest, Webs,” Sam muttered as Peter stopped just shy of the bed.

 

“Eh, I’ll be fine. I don’t think this was here, when we came in,” Peter said. Sam looked at the gem again. This close to it, there was almost a glow in the heart of it. Or maybe, the opposite of a glow. Not darkness, but un-light.

 

“Can you see that?” Sam asked, “Inside the rock, I mean.”

 

Peter frowned and squinted at it. Sam reached up to point at the heart of the gem, bloody wipe forgotten in his hand. The gem flared into life as his hand reached upwards.

 

“Oh! Yeah! Now I see it! It’s kinda glowy and almost cyan-y but then sometimes it’s-”

 

“Oh, _fla_ -”

 

The room boiled over with raw energy. Previously invisible inscriptions flared into blue-white life then warped and sparked wyrdly.

 

Peter felt like he’d had the whole of Avengers Tower dropped onto him after getting pile drived by The Juggernaut. He fell down, gasping. Everything was too bright or too un-bright in turn. There was no darkness. He could see Sam flash and un-glow against the background radiation. Then Sam screamed, or he thought he did. He felt the vibrations but he couldn’t hear a thing.

 

The broken edge of the antler sparked and everything was dark. Darkness that felt unnatural after the wyrd un-light. The LED flashlight flickered back to life after an excruciating, unbearable moment. Peter blinked, looking around.

 

He was alone.

 

“Sam!”

 

Peter couldn’t hear himself shouting. He reached out to where Sam had been. The antler was gone, Sam might still be with it. But he felt empty, so empty inside.

 

“No, God, Sam! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sam!”

 

His hearing was coming back, so slowly. The only thing he could hear was his racing heart and panicked breathing. Everything under his hands, his feet, smelled like ozone and plasma and ash.

 

He keened, talons digging into the rock, tears running down his face.

 

“I shoulda listened, I shoulda listened! I-”

 

“You should have listened to me, that’s right! You _da-das’t_ Webhead! Do you know what- awk!”

 

“Sam!” Peter tackled him through the tunnel entry way, kissing him soundly. Beads rattled at their rather rough landing and Sam grunted. But his scent-taste was _**good good good mine mine mine**_

 

“I love you!” Peter blurted as he came up for air. Sam smiled and under his hands he finally placed that emotion he’d mistaken for lust.

 

“And I love you,” Sam said **_agreeing loving anxious worried good good good mine mine mine_ **  Sam kissed him again, thoroughly, soundly.

 

He stood them up, formal dress falling to the ground. Pinkish red dust puffing up from it and under Peter’s hands everything was **_good good good mine mine mine love_ ** **_(worship)_ ** **_love_ **

 

Peter moved his kisses down to Sam’s neck nipping him. Sam sucked in a gasp, the beads tied on to the woven spider silk to his antler staff rattled at an aborted motion. But he still tasted **_good good good_ **  under his hands.

 

“Sam? How long have you been gone? Or does your glowy stick heal you like Death Star’s, too?” Peter asked, nuzzling and kissing his neck. His bruises were gone.

 

“And s-uh. I mean yeah, Webs. I can heal myself with my, uh, Nova Force,” he said, pushing him back into the nest.

 

“But you left your helmet back home. As you kept reminding me, repeatedly, over and over and-”

 

Sam kissed him again, running his free hand along his back, rubbing an especially sensitive spot just at his hip. Peter purred.

 

“Yes! Yes! This all would have been avoided if Se-I had my helmet! Remember!” he said, voice cracking as he pushed Peter down in the exact center of the cavern.

 

Peter went willingly, kissing his way down Sam’s lean, toned chest and abs. Blowing a raspberry against his belly button on his way down. Sam’s laughter was sharp, bitter but his taste was **_good good good_ **

 

“How could I **forget** , Buckethead? You wouldn’t let me!” Peter said, rolling his eyes and looking up from his kneeling with a fond, relieved smile.

 

“You are bleeding! Be still, let me heal you!” Sam said, pulling a gourd from his staff. It was painted with a spider pattern. He unstoppered it, pouring sour-tart smelling, pink tinged water over Peter’s earlier musket wound. Peter hissed at the shock of cold water and brushed it **_goood goooood goooooood_ **  away. It ran red. Sam grabbed his hands and said, “I’m sorry! Please! It’ll all be right soon!”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just cold,” Peter said, then his eyes focused on Sam’s hard cock. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, “Looks like somebody missed me.”

 

Before Sam could respond, Peter took him in his mouth, letting the head of his cock press against his suddenly itching venom glands on the way down his throat. The strangled noises Sam made at the flood of hot, slick venom were just as good the second time. He half wished he could keep the fangs just to hear that sound again. But they could get Strange or Kaplan to help them make things right when they got back to New York. That’d be plenty of time for fun now.

 

“Gr-great, aaah! Fuck! Holy fuck!” Sam gasped, staff falling from suddenly numb fingers. Sacred talismans rattling loudly in the cavern as they landed.

 

His hands threaded through Peter’s hair, holding on as Peter bobbed his head and swirled his tongue along his dick. Peter hummed happily, everything smell-tasting **_good good good_ **  and Sam still tasting **_mine mine mine_ **

 

Sam was getting close already, it must have been longer for him than for him...self. Himself. His trip took longer, shorter. Sam’s trip took longer. His trip took, his trip...

 

He flexed his toes, digging itching talons into the stone absently.

 

“E-enough! Please!”

 

Peter pulled off, confused. Sam **sounded**  afraid, but his scent taste was **_good good good_ **

 

“Is everything okay, Sunshine?”

 

“Please! It has been so long. Lay down, Webs.”

 

“Uh? Okay?” Peter said, laying back, confused but spreading his legs and raising his knees up, even with his head.

 

“Holy… p-please…” Sam closed his eyes at the inviting sight and took a centering breath. “Your venom, I am immune. The people use it as a… a… lube for...”  Sam knelt down, bowing his head for a moment, “Prepare me, please.”

 

“What, really?” Peter giggled. He snuggled up against his mate. Kissing and petting and tasting **_good good good_ **  under his palms. Peter purred, then giggled again. He didn’t notice his still bleeding wound.

 

“Oh my God is that why MJ’s preincarnation wanted my venom? Hahaha, that’s great!”

 

“Seeking Star-” Sam’s voice cracked at the name. Peter cuddled him close and rubbed soothingly at his back. He began reciting, “Seeking Star crafted for the people three wondrous containers that could refill themselves for all time with what was inside. He gifted one to the Elders. One to the children and one to the Shamans. The people, the Elders, used the first one foolishly, and lost it to the enemies of the people. The children used theirs for mother’s milk. This was before your commandment to drink ou- drink milk. And the Elders were angry at their choice and threw the great gift away. Sacred Herb used the one gifted to her upon yourself, and you gave us immunity to the other spider...s… bites."

 

“The Elders sound dumb,” Peter said, kissing the back of Sam’s neck. His hair had been singed, not cut, and was still longer than it had been. He shook under his hands at Peter’s words but **_good good good_ **  meant laughter, not tears, so Peter continued his kisses down his leanly muscled back. “Why didn’t this Seeking Star kick their butts?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Who can say what goes through the mind of a high shaman? Certainly not I.”

 

The last was said bitterly, but under his hands was still **_good good good_ **  Peter hesitated, looking over at him. His head was bowed, face hidden behind shaggy, black hair.

 

“Did you wanna talk about it, Sunshine?” Peter said, blinking slowly. He nearly flexed his itching fingers against Sam’s skin. But even with his new immunity, and potential healing ability, and knowing he liked it a bit rough, he still didn’t want to risk really hurting him.

 

“No. I do not. Please, prepare me, I have… I have missed you,” he said without looking up.

 

“I missed you too, Sam,” Peter said, cuddling against him again. He nuzzled his cheeks against his lower back, resting his chest across Sam’s shoulders, smearing Sam with venom, blood, and rumbling purrs. “Aren’t you cold? I’m cold.”

 

“Ah, it is chilly in here. But I know what can warm us up, Webs,” he said, wiggling his ass just so.

 

Peter pounced him, giggling and kissing at his ass. Underneath him Sam sighed a quiet ‘finally’ and slumped down, submitting to Peter’s eager tongue. Even though Sam was **_good good good_ **  he was still tense. Too tense. Peter set to rimming his tight pucker with a gusto Sam had not been prepared for.

 

“Great-! Holy! Fuck! Holy fuck, yes, Great-Nnnng Webs!”

 

Peter’s purrs grew louder at that. With gentle, eager licks and kisses he readied Sam until he was gaping open for him. Peter filled his mouth with his slick venom, then tongued open Sam’s ass and held him open while he prepped him. His excited cries under him grew louder at the flood of hot slickness. Peter squirmed around, grabbing at his hips and getting ready to kneel behind him.

 

Sam flipped over onto his back, legs spread wide. Hiding his bloody, golden back from Peter’s sight and wandering hands. He said, “Please, not like an animal.”

 

“Whatever you want, Sunshine,” Peter said, smiling, glowing red irises nearly lost to his pupils. He pressed the leaking head of his hard cock against Sam’s entrance, then froze. “Ah, shit, not shit, ew, gross! Sorry! I must be more tired than I thought.”

 

Peter pulled back and squirted venom onto his palms, then slicked up his cock. Sam watched him intently.

 

“I am ready, you prepared me well. Please,” he whispered, reaching once again for his staff. The gem pulsed with Sam’s heartbeat. Peter guided his cock inside his tight ass.

 

He stared at the glow, shouldn’t he… feel or… see?

 

Something?

 

But Sam was hot and tight and, “God, Sam, God you’re so good.”

 

Sam wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist and clung tightly to his staff, lips moving but no sound escaping. Peter pushed slowly into his ass, bottoming out before his full length could fill him. Sam clenched his eyes shut and braced himself. Even though he was **_good good good_ **  under his palms Peter started to pull back.

 

“No, what are you doing?” Sam said, opening glowing, desperate eyes.

 

“Uh, fucking you?” Peter said slowly, blinking down at him in confusion.

 

“Why are you so **good**?” Sam moaned, shaking and closing his eyes. Peter moved his hands to Sam’s leg and raised it along his chest. He was still **_good good good_**  so Peter smiled and pressed tender kisses against his calf. Sam moaned and tried to grind down forcefully against his gentle, rolling motions.

 

Peter grabbed his hip one handed, keeping him from doing anything rash.

 

“Hey, I know you like it rough, but can’t we go slow this time? We’ve got the rest of our lives to go fast,” Peter said.

 

The staff’s gem cast light weirdly, and wyrdly across the cavern. Sam’s blue eyes looked up at him. Peter stilled, grip slipping as his drugged brain finally caught up with reality.

 

“You’re not-”

 

“Spirit, why are you so **kind** , so **good**? It isn’t fair!” the man under him wailed, even as he took ruthless advantage of Peter’s slipped grip and flipped them.

 

“Oh God!” Peter sobbed out in horror at the sick tearing sensation and rush of blood from this Not-Sam.

 

“Praise!” he screamed past the pain, “I will make things right again! Spirit I am your shaman, obey me!”

 

“No! God, Star you don’t-”  


“I have no name! I burned my name as I burned my honor!”

 

“Shattered Star, please! You don't have to-”  

 

“Stop blessing me! I am killing you, you stupid Spirit! Obey me!” With a deft motion he slammed the top most point of the staff into Peter’s still bleeding musket wound, straight through his heart and out his back. Powered up strength pinning him to the stone floor.

 

Peter grabbed the broken antler just below Star’s white knuckled grip. The blue-white glow burned brightly, Peter’s blood sizzled where it touched it.

 

“Shattered Star… please…”

 

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be right, soon. Our souls will find the right time again-”

 

“Sam…”

 

“Remember his helmet!” he screamed falling onto a sharpened, reversed point. Impaling himself. His body collapsed at that, forehead resting against Peter's. His blood ran over the gem, mixing with Peter's.

 

The crystal powering the staff glowed as bright as the moon, as the sun, as a dying star. The brightness turned wyrd and cast unreal colors about before snapping out.

 

_The gem flared into life as Sam’s hand reached upwards._

 

_“What even is it?”_

 

* * *

 

_“You know my name is Felicity? Perhaps the age of miracles is *not* over, after all.”_

 

_“No! No! NO DON’T TAKE THE BLANKETS!”_

 

* * *

 

_“A Chrystyn deemonn! Godde be goodde!”_

 

_“Humans are people! That's a people! You killed a person! You've made ME UPSET YOU HEARTLESS FREAK!”_

 

* * *

 

_I must go now! Take your warning to Death Star in time to stop the feud!_

 

_“I don't have a **design**. I'm just trying to not mess things up on my way back to-" _

 

* * *

 

_“Sumac water clouds your mind?”_

 

* * *

 

 

_“And so! If you’re all good I’m kind of, one hundred and twelve percent done with whatever this is."_

 

* * *

 

  
_“But time flows in the way of itself, twisting and pouring and running and dripping. And so.”_

 

_“Because that makes sense. Of course. Great.”_

 

* * *

  
_"The holiest."_

 

_"Praise! Praise!"_

 

_"Holy fuck."_

 

* * *

  
_Grabbing the boy’s wrist Peter gently tapped it to the places he should have hit._

 

_“You need to hit smarter than that, kiddo.”_

 

* * *

 

_“Thank you, Great Totem, for this powerful gift.”_

 

_“You wouldn’t happen to know the way back to early twenty first century New York, would you?”_

 

* * *

  
_“That's not gonna work, Webs,”_

 

_“No! I won't! I won't hurt you!”_

 

* * *

  
_“Yeah. Totally killed it. I can tell.”_

 

_“Yeah, well, I was **trying**  to be considerate.” _

 

* * *

  


_“Magic that strong never lasts that long, you know."_

 

_“Sam will you be my boyfriend!”_

 

* * *

  
_“Are you gonna sit up there creepin’ or are you gonna get the flashlight and turn it on?”_

 

_“While not impossible, extremely unlikely.”_

 

* * *

 

_“I should have brought my helmet.”_

 

_“S’mores? What are **you**  four?” _

 

* * *

  
_“Aw man, there goes our totally bitchin’ off road vacation.”_

 

_“I’m driving back. I don’t care what you say, I could not possibly be a worse driver than you!”_

  
**_To Be Continued..._ **


	10. Continue

_Peter and Sam’s Apartment, East Harlem, New York City, New York, United States of America, Earth, Spiral Arm, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way, TRN123 Θ, the far off year of 2021_

 

“Okay Ava, remember to-” Peter said, starting to go over the checklist for at least the dozenth time that day.

 

“Yes, yes, Peter I have this,” Ava said, then started ticking off the list on her fingers, “Danny and Luke are setting up their stupid Heroes for Hire and won’t work for free so don’t call them in unless it gets serious. Feed Sam’s fish every other day, not everyday, if it gets bloated give it a thawed, frozen pea, no shell. Make sure to sing it a stupid song because you’re a total idiot-”

 

“Hey!” Peter said, scowling at Ava as he repacked his hiking backpack for the twelfth time.

 

“You are, no take backsies. It isn’t even **your**  fish,” Ava said with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Mister Shiny Pants is totally my fish!” Peter said, completely affronted.

 

“His name is Rockstar McAwesomsauce and he’s **my**  fish,” Sam said as he came in through the front door. Keys to their SHIELD issued all terrain vehicle swinging from his fingers.

 

“Anyways, Ava’s got this. Both the thises that she is supposed to get. I’m leaving right **now** and unless you wanna walk to Sargent Ponds stop bugging Ava and get in the car,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Spiders are arachnids,” Peter said reflexively.

 

Sam was already out the door.

 

“Sam, wait up!” Peter called, looking between the door to their room and the door out the apartment. Ava shook her head and rolled her eyes.

 

“Don’t tell me you forgot something with all your planning, Peter?” Ava said. Peter hesitated.

 

“Uh, yeah, actually. I think I did,” he said, dashing into their shared room and shoving Sam’s helmet in his bag. He muttered to himself on his way out, “Only for **real**  emergencies. Just in case.”

 

“When are those two idiots going to get a clue?” Ava asked their rather scraggly tailed betta fish.

 

The betta fish, whom if anyone had bothered to ask was actually named Fred, blew a bubble and flipped his fins. _**Humans**_ , he seemed to say.

 

* * *

 

 

_En Route to Sargent Ponds, New York, The United States, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera_

 

“I don’t know why we had to pick it up in New York,” Peter grumbled as they finally reached the end of the traffic heading out of the city.

 

“Street testing, city driving. This is supposed to be all terrain, remember?” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I remember. It was still awful. Oh! Hey, I heard this place is haaauuuuunnnnted,” Peter said, drawing out the word and waving his hands about in an attempt to be spooky.

 

“Yeah, right. Anyways SHIELD had Strange and Kaplan check it. They said there were no magical whatzzits,” Sam said with a snort and roll of his eyes.

 

“I dunno, Billy was kinda shifty. And Strange just said-” Peter held his hands out and did his best Doctor Strange impression, “There is nae sorcery in yon ponds and naught to be done to help you by magics!”

 

Sam smothered a laugh at that. It was a terrible impression. The worst he'd ever heard.

 

“Yeah well, I'm sure any Earth ghosties will take one look at your mug and run away,” Sam said, laughing. Peter sulked back into his chair and pouted, watching the scenery.

 

He fiddled with his sleeve and fidgeted. What was he doing, thinking Sam would ever want to date him?

 

They drove in silence for a time. Then Peter wondered aloud, “What about space ghosts? Are humans so scary to them?”

 

Sam tensed at the mention of space ghosts.

 

“Not really, we look like kree,” he said, eyes checking the mirrors before passing a logging truck. Peter gripped the seat, closing his eyes as they accelerated.

 

“Oh, like Marvel Boy?” he got out.

 

Sam snorted.

 

“Yeah, but he hates that name,” he said.

 

“Whatever. Every superhero needs a superhero name,” Peter said. Then he turned to face Sam. “You'd probably scare away the space ghosts with your stank anyways.”

 

Sam laughed.

 

“Please, you like my ‘stank' Webs,” Sam snarked back. Peter blushed and looked away again.

 

“You smell like space,” Peter mumbled.

 

Sam rolled his eyes, drumming a nothing pattern on the steering wheel. “For like, the twelve millionth time Webs, space smells like ozone.”

 

Peter wrinkled his nose at that. Ozone always reminded Peter of magic.

 

“I have no idea what you think space smells like, or why I smell like it. But if you're trying to tell me to take a shower you know good and well I took one this morning,” Sam said, getting grumpy.

 

Peter squealed and stuck himself to the seat as Sam took the turn off with more force than was strictly needed.

 

“Anyways we don't have my helmet so we should be fine if any space ghosts do show up,” Sam said. His eyes were distant and he was worrying his lower lip.

 

“Yeah! We'll be fine!” Peter laughed nervously.

 

The settled into silence for a time.

 

Peter sighed and looked out the window. He was the world’s worst backseat driver. Watching the speedometer tick up to the speed limit, and past it, was nervewracking. No matter that Sam could pilot spaceships and quinn jets and boats and submarines. Even ranking expert in all them according to his SHIELD file. Though to be fair Peter would probably be even more annoying and tense in a standard jet.

 

He looked back to their packs, hoping he’d finally, **finally** , get the chance to get the courage to ask Sam out. This time, for **sure**. Even if he had brought his helmet, Sam didn’t **know**. So there’d be no calls from the Guardians interrupting his precise planning **this time**.

 

His glance back drew his eyes to the car they were passing. An older model sedan, loaded with camping gear. A middle aged woman and child were clearly singing road songs. Peter felt himself smile at the memories that brought up.

 

“Did I ever tell you my Uncle Ben used to take me camping?” he said, watching the car a bit longer as it fell behind them. He missed Sam’s surprised glance and soft, pleased smile at that sudden sharing.

 

“No, don’t think it’s come up,” Sam said, trying to go for neutral. But his curiosity, and eagerness to share led him to say, “Did he teach you only the best thing ever about camping on Earth?”

 

Peter laughed and rolled his eyes, “Uh, the total freedom of pooping in the woods?”

 

Sam snorted, “ _Flark’ng_ dork, no. Not shitting in the woods. Thor you are weird.”

 

Peter sighed, his mouth ran off and ruined everything like it usually did.

 

“Besides lots of planets have woods to shit in. No, the best thing about Earth camping is s’mores!” Sam went on, bouncing a bit in his seat in excitement. Peter perked up, suddenly hungry at the mention of the sweet treat.

 

“Oh yeah! I love s’mores! Man, that-” Peter looked back out the window, eyes growing distant, “that really takes me back.”

 

“Oh man, yes! I am so looking forward to this bitchin’ off road vacay!” Sam declared. Peter smiled, then turned a smirk Sam’s way.

 

“I can’t believe you actually say vacay, you are such a dork,” Peter said. They were on an empty, ‘closed’ road now. Civilians safe outside of the testing zone.

 

Sam stuck out his tongue, then abruptly said, as officially professional as he got without his helmet,  “Beginning incapacitated driver detection testing in three-”

 

Peter stuck himself to the seat.

 

“-two-”

 

He hated trusting SHIELD’s techs on this. If Cho or Stark, or hell, even Flash had been involved in designing this vehicle he’d feel a lot safer. But he had his trusty spidey-sense. If anything seriously bad happened he could get Sam out in time.

 

“-one.”

 

Peter slumped against his seat a moment after Sam did, waiting for the AI to kick in and take over steering. They both jumped when the proximity alarm went off with a bland ‘proximity alert anomalous energy signature detected’ and the AI braked to under forty and swerved.

 

“Holy shit snacks! Did you see the size of that **deer**?” Peter blurted turning to look behind them. But nothing was there.

 

Sam’s hands were back on the wheel. Sweat ran down the side of his face.

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck that was a **deer**? I thought it was-” Sam shook his head, blinking, “I thought it was some _das’t_ Asgardian critter.”

 

“I’m not sure anything from Asgard is small enough to be classified ‘critter’,” Peter said, frowning and turning back around.

 

“Whatever. Looks like a successful test though!” Sam said, sounding a bit strained. Peter glared at the dash, as if it was the source of his sudden spike in anxiety.

 

“Just wait, this stupid minivan is gonna break. I just know it,” Peter said.

 

“It’s an all terrain vehicle, not a minivan,” but Sam’s voice was still tense. Peter looked over at him.

 

“You good? Need to pull over? You kinda look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Peter said, worried.

 

“I'm good. Were… were it’s eyes glowing _quiixne_? I mean, black-gold reverse-light,” Sam asked, eyes on the road. Peter thought back.

 

“That’s a really weirdly specific color to have a word for, buuuut, maybe?” he said, trying to think back on its eyes, specifically.

 

“Yeah, it’s, it’s the color of _dasNova_ … Dammed Novas I think translates best,” Sam said.

 

Peter stared at him. They both jumped when the bland GPS voice indicated their next turn off.

 

“Sooo, the deer is a, uh, Dammed Nova?” Peter said slowly. He twisted back, looking, but their packs were still in the far back cargo area.

 

“No.”

 

Peter turned back to stare at him again.

 

“Sam?”

 

“I am. You saw the color?” his grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled. He took a breath and said, tired, “Beginning maneuverability testing in three-”

 

“Yeah I saw the chichmah color or whatever. Sam-”

 

“-two-”

 

They overshot the turn off.

 

“We can stop testing and-”

 

“-one.”

 

Peter closed his eyes and stuck to the seat. Trusting in his Spidey-Sense. Sam spun the wheel, whipping the vehicle around and taking the smaller road. The fast manoeuvre rocked the van. A rear tire lifted off the ground jostling them and their things.

 

“Was that a crack? Did you hear a crack?”

 

“Decent maneuverability, but I wouldn’t wanna take that over a hundred and seventy five,” Sam’s eyes scanned the dash, “No sensors tripped, you’re just tense.”

 

“Of course I’m tense! We just almost roadkilled some kinda magic deer and now you’re acting all weird!”

 

“It’s not magic.” Sam said, voice short.

 

“Good! I hate magic!” Peter snapped.

 

“Yeah, no, it's Cosmic. It's…” Sam trailed off.

 

“It's?” Peter prompted, impatient and nervous.

 

“It's here for-”

 

The car's bland computerized voice declared, “Proximity alert, autopilot engaged, anomalous-”

 

Sam gripped the wheel. The wheel turned under Sam’s hands despite his efforts to control it.

 

“I know you _schlag_ bait, disengage!”

 

“Sam! Eleven o’clock!”

 

“-energy signature detected-”

 

“I see it, Webs!”

 

“Why isn’t my Spidey-Sense tripping?!”

 

“-authorized user recognized, autopilot disengaged.”

 

“Do you have to say the entire _flark’ng_ message before complying?!” Sam screamed, swerving to avoid the body of the massive elk like megafauna. The car was only registering an energy signature near it’s head. It's body wasn't registering at all.

 

He reached out, pulling Peter down and ducking. The deer lowered its head, the edge of it’s broken antler catching the roof and sheering it off in a spray of wyrd un-light, sparks and starch balls.

 

“That sure twhipping looks like a magic deer to me, Buckethead!” Peter shouted, the stink of ozone making his eyes water.

 

“ _Flark’ng_ safety windows,” the sparks heated the starch, making it sticky where it landed, “I can’t shift!”

 

There was a definite crack from the rear axle.

 

“Okay, time to abandon ship!” Peter said, switching their positions and thwipping them to the nearest sturdy tree.

 

“You fucking asshole! You brought your webshooters?”

 

“Of course I brought my webshooters! Why wouldn’t-” he snapped out a webline and plucked his hiking pack out of the still moving car. “-I bring my webshooters?”

 

“Is my helmet in that!?”

 

“I remembered!”

 

_**REMEMBER** _

 

“Aaaa! Shut up magic deer! You aren't helping!”

 

_**HELP** _

 

“Ooooh no, nononono. Why? Why did you actually listen to me! The only _flark’ng_ -”

 

“What do you mean! I listen to you literally all the time!” Peter shifted their positions so that Sam was straddling the side of his hip. Sticking to the tree with his feet, hands now freed, he ripped off the top of his pack and dug through it.

 

“You never listen to me! How many times did I tell you I lived in space before you-!” Sam wrapped his legs around him and leaned over, grabbing the pack and trying to pull it away.

 

“Oh my God! Are you seriously bringing that up **now**?! That was half a decade ago!” Peter cried out. In the distance the rear axle separated from the still moving van.

 

“Yes I’m bringing it up now!” Sam tugged, Peter’s grip remained firm, “Because!” tug, “It’s!” tug, “Extremely!” tug, “ _Flark’ng_!” tug, “Relevant!”

 

The bag ripped open, the contents flying every which way. Peter reached out, grabbing something one handed, head turning to check the sound of the emergency escape engaging.  Sam tried to kick away his helmet. Peter wrapped his arm around Sam, securing him for the short jump needed to scoop his helmet out of the air and land lower in the tree.

 

They both looked around the suddenly silent forest, panting, tense. They were nearly on the ground.

 

“Where’d it go?” Peter asked, still tense. “It doesn’t ping my Spidey-Sense!”

 

“You said that already, Webs. And how the _flark_ should I-” Sam started to rant, then did a double take, “is that an **entire bottle**  of **lube**?”

 

“Maybe! No! Yes! Do we have to talk about it **right now**?!” Peter blurted.

 

“Why the _flark_ do you need two hundred and fifty mils of-”

 

“That isn’t important now!”

 

“-anal lube on a week long-”

 

“What **is** important is what the frick frack is that spooky totally ‘not magic’ deer and why is it trying to kill us!”

 

“-vacation with… me...” Sam stared at him. He was slowly inching them back up the tree, looking around nervously. Only a little bit avoiding Sam’s sharp gaze.

 

Sam looked at his helmet held in Peter’s hands. The power stone in the back was sparking and un-glowing in turns.

 

“You can see-”

 

“Yes! I can see your stupid space color!” Peter snarled, twisting to shove the helmet at Sam’s chest.

 

“ **Now**  you give me my helmet,” Sam said, “ _Flark’ng_ perfect.”

 

“Is it cold? I’m cold.”

 

Freezing breath misted down onto them.

 

Peter blinked, swallowing and locking eyes with Sam.

 

“It’s right behind me, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah Webs, it’s right behind you,” Sam sighed and pulled his helmet on.

 

“Peachy,” Peter said.

 

“We really need to talk about your anxiety after this,” Sam added, the Nova Force enveloping him a sickly, washed out not-color. Peter shivered.

 

“Anxiety? Who has anxiety issues? Me? No way! I’m not-”

 

_**AND SO WE HAVE FOUND YOU** _

 

“Ow. Volume, buddy, we’re right here,” Peter snarked, rubbing at his ears.

 

_**AND HERE WE ARE SPIRIT STAR** _

 

“Seriously, dude. I know spiders technically don’t have ears but-” Peter said, breath puffing out in mist at the sudden, absolute chill.

 

“I don’t know what I did but I know who you’re here for and it isn’t him,” Sam shouted. “Let him go!”

 

_**YOU ARE AND HE IS** _

 

“Right, yes, I think therefore I am-” Peter tried to get out, shivering. Sam cut him off.

 

“That’s not fair! He’s never even used a Nova Power stone. And he hasn’t done anything wrong, no way!”

 

_**FAIR WHAT IS FAIR WE ARE HERE** _

 

“Oh man, why do they always say,” Peter’s head drooped. His side where Sam’s usually warm Nova Force touched him was cold. Absolutely cold. The atmosphere around them was condensing into water vapor. Peter had stopped shivering, he muttered weakly, “stuff like that like it makes sense?”

 

“I dunno, must go to the same club, or something,” Sam said, tensing.

 

It lifted it’s head.

 

_**MAKE IT RIGHT** _

 

“I don’t…” Peter started to say, twisting his back to the tree in an effort to stay sticking to it.

 

The plane of the thing that had once been an ancient elk’s broken antler un-glowed.

 

_**STAR SPIRIT** _

 

It lowered its head.

 

Sam moved.

 

“Holy!” Peter opened his eyes, hand reflexively grasping onto something between them that wasn’t there.  


“ _Flark_!” Sam gasped meeting Peter’s pained gaze, hand grabbing the thing at the same time.

 

The thing that had once been an elk screamed like the void and reared. Power flared and glowed and unglowed in turn. It pulled the rest of its broken antler from them in one agonizing motion.

 

It’s antler once again whole it shook its great head and bounded away, no longer hauntingly imposing. It hooted, calling out for it’s long extinct herd.

 

The wyrd light was still un-glowing about them.

 

“Shouldn’t… shouldn’t it stop… hurting now?” Peter gasped out. Sam looked down between them. His HUD, flickering in and out of existence, identified the weight in their hands as a raw, unstable power stone before it went out altogether.

 

“I think it’s about to get worse, Webs,” Sam choked out.

 

“Of course it is,” Peter groaned. “You know… just once… it’d be nice,” he shivered, leaning into Sam. Which didn’t help, the wyrd resonance of the power stone to his helmet’s stone was making him too cold. Peter finished anyways, “to actually have something go according to plan.”

 

“Yeah? What,” Sam brought his other hand up, as if having to push through wet sand.  “What plan was that, Pete?”

 

“Any... of them,” Peter reached out with his free hand, meeting Sam’s half way. His gloves burned Peter’s naked hand like ice. For a disorienting moment Peter wondered why he couldn’t taste anything.

 

He looked out, past the un-glowing, corrupted Nova Force. At the forest. The world was frozen. Both in time and literally freezing from the absolute cold.

 

“Sam,” Peter gasped, trying to lock eyes with him through his helmet.

 

“Peter,” Sam panted, resting his forehead, his helmet, against Peter’s.

 

The world flashed white and for one agonizing moment Sam’s own energy was burning him as well as Peter.

 

“No!”

 

Sam gripped the power stone, focusing. Tapping into depths he didn’t realize he possessed to keep the unstable energy focused into his Nova Force. Absorbing it as he absorbed plasma blasts, light, or heat. That was as easy as baking cookies compared to focusing this. This energy felt almost alive, twisting and leaping like an elk, then freezing and pouncing like a spider.

 

“Webs! I can’t!” Sam cried out, muscles spasming at the energy surge.

 

“You can!” Peter cried back. Hanging onto the stone just as hard. “Together, we got this!”

 

“Get outta here, you _flark’ng_ sap!” Sam growled, then yelled wordlessly as he tried to take in the power.

 

“No! You can do it Sam!” Peter said, encouraging. Then hissed as his own muscles spasmed from the power.

 

“Run you idiot!” Sam said, pushing them out of the tree. They remained floating, raw power crackling over their bodies.

 

“Not gonna happen, Sparky! Tell me what to do!” Peter growled, holding tight to Sam's hands and the unstable Nova power stone still clenched between them.

 

“I want you to run away you _das’t_ idiot!” Sam said, tears flash boiling as soon as they left the dubious safety of his skin.

 

Before Peter could once again refuse to abandon him, Sam closed the distance between them and kissed his lips.

 

The lurking and pouncing escape attempts ceased at that, and Sam reasserted control over the twisting, fighting energy. Peter held onto him and kissed him through the surges.

 

A few excruciating seconds passed while Sam fought with the power. A few more seconds and the energy seemed compliant. Sam pulled away to gasp in air.

 

Peter groaned, shuddering as the last of the energy passed through him. Sam grunted, looking at the dim stone still held in their hands. Peter followed his gaze.

 

“That wasn't nearly as-" Peter started to say.

 

The unlight pulsed out, like an imploding starship, an antimatter explosion, or a newborn blackhole. Then everything flared blue white and warm as the energy pulsed through them. Peter came so hard he whited out.

 

They were falling together to the ground and everything was in motion again when he came to. Just in time to land on his back.

 

“Oof!”

 

“Ugh!”

 

They lay there on their backs, hands still clasped. Gasping for breath and staring up at the cloudy, snowy sky.

 

Peter fist bumped Sam one handed. Sam returned it, then grabbed onto his palm.

 

“And you,” Peter gasped, shivering and sweating in turn, “called me a,” a gasped inhalation, “a sap.”

 

“That's cause,” Sam panted, “you _flark_ ,” a pained groan, “ _flark’ng_ are.”

 

“You're a sap,” Peter muttered, finally catching his breath.

 

Sam squeezed their hands.

 

Peter grinned, squeezing back.

 

“Wanna make out?”

 

“Fuck yeah, just, gimme a tic. That flark'ng power did **not**  wanna get in me.”

 

Peter tilted his head, trying to look at Sam without moving. He was pretty beat, himself.

 

“You gonna be okay? Should we call an evac?”

 

“Yeah, I'm good. Just, all noodley and stuff.”

 

“Weirdest. Orgasm. Ever,” Peter said, agreeing. He wanted nothing more than to pass out and sleep for a week.

 

“Shit, Webs, I didn't think. You okay? I'm sorry man,” Sam said. He pulled them into an awkward hug, helmet falling off. His suit remained.

 

“I'm good. Why’re you apologizing for making me come, anyways?” Peter said, petting Sam's hair. It was, amazingly, still gelled. His own hair felt like a frizz-plosion. Sam looked at him as if he were being especially dense.

 

“Did you even know that **could**  happen when absorbing energy? And before you say yes I know you didn't so don't lie,” Sam said, waiting. Peter continued petting him.

 

“Er, okay, no. No I didn't, but surprise orgasms are way better than-”

 

“Peter you don't have to like-"

 

“Sam. **You**  can give me surprise orgasms whenever you want,” Peter said.

 

Sam stared at him, still breathing heavy from the strain.

 

“Seriously I'm good, we're good. Just-” Peter yawned, “-tired.”

 

Sam rested his head against Peter's chest.

 

The snow from the sudden space cold brought to earth settled around them, sticking to the ground in a fine powder.

 

“Seriously? Weirdest ever? I’da thought the shit you got up to with Black Cat was way weirder,” Sam said, moving his gloved hand to smooth down Peter's frizzy hair.

 

Peter blushed. Sam laughed.

 

“You know SHIELD has an entire team dedicated to taking down you and Black Cat’s sex vids, right?” Sam said, teasing. Peter’s blush intensified.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter mumbled. Sam moved his petting hand to cup Peter's cheek.

 

“You are embarrassed by the weirdest things, Webs,” Sam said, smiling softly.

 

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so he kissed him. Power sparked through them again at that and he shivered. Sam opened his mouth and kissed him back.

 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting Sam to taste like. But it wasn’t the sharp, indescribable taste of raw energy. His suit dispersed with a vaguely pleasant tingle where he rested against his own body.

 

Sam’s hand in his hair changed from soft petting to a fierce grip as he deepened their kiss. Peter moved his hands across Sam’s back, pushing up his layered shirts to caress his warm skin. The faint memory of a taste he couldn’t describe other than ‘yes good want’ flitted through his mind. Sam shivered.

 

Sam’s other arm wrapped around Peter, pulling his own layered shirts out of his pants to tease at the naked dip of his hip. Peter moaned and Sam took full advantage of the opening to tease his tongue along his teeth. Sam played at his completely unremarkable canines for a long moment before pressing at the roof of his mouth.

 

Peter nipped at his tongue and he made a surprisingly quiet sound of pleasure at that. So he sucked and nipped at Sam’s bottom lip. Sam obliged by make happy, quiet sounds at the teasing.

 

Peter blinked his eyes open, not quite sure when he’d closed them.

 

“Why’re you so quiet?” he asked. Was he doing this wrong? Sam was always so loud back in their apartment…

 

“Like you,” Sam sighed, before kissing him again. Peter’s hands teased at Sam’s waist, dipping his fingers under his elastic to tease at his skin before returning to rub at his waist. When had they rolled on their sides? The way their legs intertwined was familiar and new. Peter felt his pulse speed up in anticipation.

 

He nipped again at Sam’s demanding tongue, “No I mean, do you like this?”

 

It wasn’t quite what he’d been trying to say, but close enough. Sam opened his eyes, dark with emotion. He rested their foreheads together, hands running along Peter’s abs, teasing at his pubic hair above his pants’ waist line.

 

“Kinda why I’m still doin’ it, Webs,” he said, lazy and unconcerned. Content. A confusing flash of emotions ran through Peter at that. Fear and lust. Love and pain.

 

“Say my name,” Peter said, mouth suddenly dry and heart jumping in his throat. Sam grinned, slow and wide, full and happy.

 

“Peter,” he purred, “Peter I think I kinda like-like you and, Peter, I really like kissing you,” Sam kissed him again, slow and warm and sharp and sweet.

 

Peter moaned into his mouth, nails scratching down Sam’s back.

 

“Fuck yeah, Peter,” Sam whispered against his lips. Peter really liked the sound of that so he did it again. He ground up against him. Sam whined and rocked their hips together. He cupped his ass and moved back to his hips, grabbing onto him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

 

“Not that this isn’t a hundred percent totally awesome, but why aren’t you louder? This **is** good, right?” Peter said, worried. Sam rolled his eyes and gave him his ‘Webs is being an idiot but I guess I’ll humor him’ look. Which he then ruined by nuzzling noses with him and smiling stupidly.

 

“I ain’t trying to make you jealous anymore, duh,” Sam said, kissing him again. Peter made extremely offended noises into his mouth. He rolled them over, pinning Sam under him against the fluffy, space cold snow.

 

“Cold! Fucking cold!” Sam yelped and squirmed. Unnoticed by either of them the blue sky had become grey. The wind was picking up.

 

“That's what you get for being rude, Sunshine,” Peter laughed, rubbing his head against the snow. Sam shrieked and flailed at Peter, though he wasn’t fighting very hard to escape.

 

Before they could wrestle, or ‘wrestle’ any further Peter turned his head and froze.

 

“Spidey-Sense!” he muttered just before rolling them over to Sam’s helmet and then leaping them up high into the nearest tall tree. Snow had started falling. Sam shivered.

 

Below, trampling the outlines of where they had just rested in the snow ran their ‘friend’ the very lost _Megaloceros_ raced. It’s breath misting as it ran, frothy sweat running down its sides. Before Peter and Sam could do more than share a look, a pack of frost wolves ran underneath them.

 

Sam put on his helmet with a sigh. He gave Peter a gentle squeeze once his suit had finished materializing and pushed away, floating. Peter grinned at him.

 

“Alright Nova! Lookit your new threads!” he gestured at Sam’s chest.

 

“Huh?” Sam looked down at his chest. His Nova stars had changed from plain shining metal starbursts to metal circles with embedded crystal.

 

He grinned and looked back at Peter. Then gave a falsly nonchalant sort of shrug.

 

“Okay, okay. I guess you’re right, Webs,” Sam said, sounding bored.

 

“Yeah I’m right! You know it!” Peter said, pumping his fist in the air in celebration before webslinging after the frost wolves. Sam followed him, weaving in and out of the close trees with somewhat less grace than usual.

 

“Heck of a power boost, gonna take a while to get used to this upgrade,” Sam said, trying to play it off.

 

“Sam says I’m right and Nova can’t fly. I need a record of this! Where’s my phone?” Peter said, teasing only. He didn’t bother to try and take any pictures, they were coming up on the rogue frost wolves and he needed to be ready.

 

“Yeah, yeah Webhead. Live it up. I’m still even more awesomer than you,” Sam said, zapping the alien wolf into ash. “Heh, um, oops.”

 

Peter trapped a massive beast in a web-net before pausing.

 

“Wait, what am I right about again? Not that I’m not always right, of course,” Peter said, turning to face Nova. Sam laughed.

 

“Weirdest. Orgasm. Ever.”

  
**_-fin-_ **


End file.
